New Blood
by SeekingHunter
Summary: The Hunt is finished, the Moon Presence is finally vanquished. The Hunter returns to Yharnam to pick up the pieces and make his final farewells before leaving for good. Arianna throws a wrench in the plan however, and when the Hunter is approached by a strange man identifying only as the "Ambassador" he is left with a choice. M Rating for violence and possible sexual content.
1. Introduction

Author's Note and Story Summary

This is a story that's been knocking around in my head for a while now, and its gotten to the point where I have to write it down. Now, the premise may seem a bit ridiculous, but to me that's the nature of fanfiction in general. I have never before attempted something such as this, so any form of regular upload schedule should be regarded as more guidelines than actual rules. That said, I will attempt to regularly update at least once, if not twice a week.

The premise of this particular fanfiction is simple enough. Put the Bloodborne Hunter into Smash Brothers. I, however, will be taking many liberties with the subject matter. Bloodborne is far more strict with it's canon, but I've managed to find some breathing room, hopefully the die hard lore fans will find this acceptable (No doubt some points risk my inevitable lynching, but I digress). With Smash Brothers my only concern is to at least attempt some semblance of accurate characterization of all the fighters involved. The Hunter alone will be completely as I imagine, however, due to the blank slate nature of the character creation.

The first several chapters will be setup, I'm afraid. All taking place within the world of Bloodborne up until chapter three. Actual bouts won't start until after that, however, and even then the fights will not be my primary focus. I believe I can set up a compelling setting given what is present within the Smash Brothers 'universe', and I intend to take as much advantage of that as possible.

This particular story WILL be rated M. Unfortunately I cannot see myself being able to hold a T rating when Bloodborne itself is so brutal and violent. In order to portray all characters to their fullest extent I find it necessary to put it under this rating. However, I am neither and extremely violent or sensual writer, so while the occasional brutal fight or lemon may occur, do not expect such extremes to be frequent.

Hopefully those of you who read this are interested enough to continue, and I appreciate your patience with me. Thank you.

 _"_ _ **Director, the investors have made their decision on the newest competitor.**_ _"_

 _"Let's see it."_

 _..._

 _"The Hunter, then. I see. Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time before someone like that got here."_

 _"_ _ **What are your instructions sir?**_ _"_

 _"I want you to observe the Hunter and then report to me. I want your honest opinion on this one."_

 _"_ _ **Understood, Director.**_ _"_


	2. C1: Dawn

C1: Dawn

The Hunter clutched at his bloodied side, watching as the Moon Presence disappeared, finally dead after hours of striving. The sound of something heavily landing upon the earth jolted the Hunter to the realization that he had fallen to his knees. A long sigh escaped from weary lungs, at long last his aching body could have the rest it had yearned for throughout the hunt. However, work was yet left to do, and the Hunter stood, groaning with the aches and pains his exertions had left him with. Around him, the dream wavered and he felt unsteady.

Slowly but surely he made his way to the lamp, looking at the Doll as he approached her. Her small mouth curved slightly into what could be construed as a smile. "Good hunter, the night of the hunt approaches its end. Rest now that you might have peace."

The Hunter grunted, "Much as I'd like to, there's more than a few loose ends out there. I'll be damned if I came this far just to leave it all unfinished." Her gaze, unsettlingly human as it was, regarded him as he approached the stone that would take him to Cathedral Ward's Oedon Chapel. "Keep the place tidy while I'm gone." Assuming he ever came back. Assuming the Dream wouldn't simply fall apart the second he left. He looked at her. The Doll had been as close to a friend as he'd had in the Hunt, the prospect of never seeing that friendly face or hearing that soft voice again was... unpleasant to say the least.

Still, goodbyes didn't suit him and he traveled to the lamp he wished without uttering a word of farewell. Upon his arrival in the Ward, he noted that the lamp's fire did not dim, perhaps the Dream remained yet. All in all the Hunter wasn't sure if that was a good thing. Grumbling with continued discomfort as a result of the brutal beatings and utter exhaustion, he went into the old Oedon Chapel to speak to the Chapel Dweller.

"Ah, the Hunter. The night's been long, it has. But we've pulled through it, haven't we my friend? Hee hee hee..." The Dweller seemed almost surprised to have survived the night, not that the Hunter blamed him for that. Surviving any amount of time in Yharnam was a shock. "But what's the look on your face, friend? You don't seem to be very happy that the sun's risin."

The Hunter grunted, "I don't think I'm allowed to be all that happy after what I've seen. But I'm here to make sure everyone's alive." _And to remember them before I go._ "How's Arianna?" The woman of the night had, during the blood moon, given birth to something... other than human, which had reduced her to hysterical laughter and tears.

"She spent a good few hours weeping, I'm afraid. But that old dear gave her something and she calmed right down."

The Hunter let out a humorless chuckle, knowing exactly what the "Old Dear" had given to Arianna. Those selfsame sedatives had proved useful to him as well on a few occasions. He strode into the chapel, noting that the Skeptical Man had already packed up and left. _Old fool's probably gone home._ The Hunter looked then to Adella the nun. The young woman's face was tracked with tears, and her hands were still clasped together in sign of her constant supplications unto whichever God she prayed to. He gently clasped her hands in his own and said, "Be at peace sister." She did not speak in return, but merely continued to weep as he walked away.

The old woman appeared to be sleeping again, but upon closer inspection the Hunter could see that her skin had turned sallow and no breath filled her lungs. She had died peacefully in her sleep, a mercy if ever there was one. He sighed and place a hand upon her, bowing his head in a silent benediction for her soul to be at peace. He rose and looked down at the once irascible, then helpful, old woman. Her death seemed to be an omen of life resuming its normal course, somehow. A sign that the plague was drawing to a close and men and women would be allowed to die as nature intended. In a way, that made him feel better.

Silently he bore her to the graveyard outside the church, catching the Chapel Dweller's mournful gaze in passing. The Hunter set the deceased woman upon the ground, then took up a shovel and began to dig. Hours passed, the sun grew high, and heat permeated the very air – causing the gore on the Hunter's clothes to reek and steam. Finally, when he was satisfied, he lay the old woman to rest in the grave and began the task of pouring the dirt onto her rigid corpse.

Noon had come and past by the time he had finished by rolling a heavy stone to the head of the churned earth, and he spent the next hour chiseling at the stone with bits of chain and broken tools the townsfolk had used to fend off the beasts. The Hunter wiped his brow, then stood, looking over his handiwork, "Be at peace, Grandmother. May your soul find rest in the worlds beyond." This simple benediction was all he could think of before he turned and strode back into the chapel.

Adella was asleep in her own chair, which was only to be expected, as she had been up the entire night. All of them had been, sleep was too fine a luxury during the hunt. He passed the Dweller as well, who never seemed to rest for some reason, and wound his way to where he knew Arianna would be. And there she was, blonde hair matted and lank, her body slumped in exhaustion. The sedatives had done their work in allowing her to sleep, and now she rested from the trauma of the hunt and birth.

The Hunter looked into her face, a strange longing within him. Not for lust or physical want, but just... talk. During the hunt Arianna had provided him with the comfort of friendship, of simple words exchanged between peers. He slowly reached out and brushed aside her hair, the feeling of touching another human strange in itself. The Hunter's hand retreated as she murmured in her slumber and he shook his head.

After seeing what become of so many other hunters, Gascoigne especially, he could hardly allow himself to do as he wished with Arianna. He would wait until she awoke, then he would speak his last words to her before going to Cainhurst and bidding farewell to his queen. Then... then he'd find somewhere to disappear. Too many hunters before him had submitted to the blood, and even now he felt himself hungering for yet more violence.

He shuddered and sat upon a nearby stair, eyes unfocused as he lost himself in an internal reverie. Cainhurst was safe enough, all the ghosts had been laid to rest, the monsters all slain. He'd made sure of that, as thanks to his queen for her kindness. But even so... it was empty, devoid of all life. None of the Vilebloods remained to tend to the grounds, none of the nobles or knights paced the halls. An idea slowly formed in his mind, perhaps the queen would allow...

His thoughts were interrupted by a groan and the sound of Arianna shifting in her chair, her grey eyes fluttering open as she awoke. The Hunter stood, slowly, and walked to her, "Feeling any better yet?" He asked, falling into the neutral tones he always used when unpleasantness could be near.

She looked up at him, eyes still slightly unfocused, "Hunter..? That is you, is it not?" She let out another pained groan as she sat up, "Forgive me, but I..." New tears formed in the corners of her eyes as she looked away from him.

The Hunter reached out to her and placed his hand upon her shoulder, causing her to flinch slightly. She did not look up, however. "Arianna, I will not hurt you. I'm only here to make sure you're safe. Of all people, you are the last I wish to fear me."

"It is not fear that overcomes me, noble Hunter, but shame." She choked slightly, body trembling with suppressed sobs, "How could I birth such a...thing? Who could have planted such a vile seed within me to bring a creature like that forth from my body?" She bowed her head and wept again, in pain and disgrace.

He did not remove his hand from her shoulder and she looked up at him, tears flowing down her dirtied cheeks, leaving clear tracks through the grime, "Hunter... please. Do not withhold your thoughts from me. Am I a monster in your mind now?" Arianna's voice trembled with emotion as her eyes, colored that of storm clouds, searched his face for anything resembling the hate he held for beasts.

She did not find it and he allowed his hand to drift down her arm and clasp hers. He held her gaze with his own golden eyes, "You are no monster Arianna. Never shall I think of you as such." He crouched before her, almost kneeling, so that their eyes were level.

"Dear Hunter..." He saw in her eyes something new, and wished he had been more careful in his comforting of her, "The Hunt has ended for you, has it not? I can... see in your eyes that you have done what you sought to do." Arianna swallowed then, and he heard the hope rise in her voice, "Would you...stay beside me, then? I... now find myself in need of comfort." Her hand tightened about his.

The Hunter was torn, and to allow himself time to sort through his own thoughts he replied with a question of his own, "Where is it you'll go now, then? I am not sure your old home is safe yet, even if the Hunt is ended." Why couldn't he simply deny her? He had to, to keep her safe from a worse beast than any other. But... those grey eyes would not allow him to depart so easily.

"I..." She faltered, obviously having not considered that. Her silence allowed him to solidify his thoughts into a cohesive plan.

"I will find you a new home then. One safer than even here." His voice was filled with familiar steel as he made to stand.

She clutched at him, tears appearing once more, expression and voice desperate, "Please, darling Hunter, do not leave me yet! I... I have need of you at my side." Arianna wrapped both her hands around his and looked at him, everything about her pleading for him to stay.

The Hunter opened his mouth to say no, to tell her that he must go now to find her safe haven. He tried to speak, but could not force the words. Instead he found himself saying, "There are others I must check on. Children. I must see to their safety now, but..." He couldn't do it. Curses formed in his mind as he spoke, "I will come back." Relief filled Arianna and she relaxed back into her chair. Before she could speak again he turned and left, hurrying to the house of Gascoigne's two daughters.

Silently he berated himself, passing by despondent citizens who roamed the streets, looking for loved ones, hoping for mercy that would never come. Yharnam was a graveyard now, and it was only a matter of time before it's people moved on. That would be for the best, the Hunter knew. Leave this bloodied city to the crows and mongrels and start anew. That, at least would provide some modicum of hope for its beleaguered citizens.

He wove between buildings and strode down alleys, ignoring the ever present scent of rot and charred flesh. Finally, his footsteps halted outside an all too familiar window. He rapped upon it and heard a child's voice from within, "Is that you, Hunter? Have you found our parents yet?" The curtains parted to reveal two young girls, one could only have been six, the other perhaps thirteen.

The Hunter sighed and told them everything that had occurred with their father, Gascoigne, and their mother. Even telling them of the man they called grandad, Gascoigne's old friend, Henryk. The two children wept profusely for their loss, and the Hunter felt himself grieving with them. But he had yet more to do with these two, to secure their future and safety. He cleared his throat and said, "I know it may seem much to ask of you, but I could take you to a woman who would care for you herself. It may be poor recompense for your losses, but I will ensure that all of you are safe and taken care of."

"I-is she nice?" The youngest of the two girls asked, voice quavering.

"She is one of the kindest people I know. Like you, she has suffered, but she retains her kind heart even so." The two agreed, and, after an hour, emerged carrying bags laden with their belongings. The younger girl had a white ribbon holding back her raven hair. The ribbon was pristine, and by its cleanliness he knew that it was precious to her above all else. He took their burdens and led them to Oedon chapel, whereupon he introduced them to Arianna, the Dweller, and Adella.

Night approached steadily and the Hunter looked out over the darkening streets of Yharnam. The two girls had quickly attached themselves to Arianna, and she to them. He felt some satisfaction in his decision to bring them to her, and no small relief in the fact that the two girls seemed to distract Arianna from both him and her tragedy.

The Hunter went then to the doors of Oedon chapel and shut them. He knew, better than any, that beasts still hid in the dark corners of Yharnam. And he was not about to let his greatest success be torn asunder. Doors closed and windows boarded, he sat in the middle of the chapel, eyes half closed, Rakuyo in his lap. He remained in this half sleeping state throughout the night, garnering some rest and renewed vigor from it.


	3. C2: Royal Blood

C2: Royal Blood

" _ **Are you entirely sure about this one?**_ _"_

" _The investors have all agreed that he is to be the newest 'gladiator'."_

" _ **And heaven help us if we denied the investors.**_ _"_

" _Don't get nasty, just send the emissary."_

" _ **Fine, but I want my objections to be recorded.**_ _"_

" _Done. I'm sure the investors will change their minds when they read them."_

" _ **Don't make fun of me, 'Director'. I'm just doing my job, like you asked.**_ _"_

The Hunter came free of his waking sleep as the light of the newly risen sun touched his face through a crack in the boards on the windows. He stood and stretched, then walked to the doors and opened them slightly, listening, smelling, feeling and looking for any beasts without. Nothing stirred. Any scent was dull and cold, and not even his intuition hinted at danger. With guarded relief he looked at the Chapel Dweller, "Let Arianna and the girls know I've gone to find them a new home." He paused, "You're welcome to come along if you like. I know you've grown fond of them already."

The Dweller fingered its shawl, "I'll think about it, Hunter. You've done too much for me already in allowing me to protect those that have stayed here. Who knows, I might need to shelter some other poor soul, he he he..."

The Hunter shrugged, "As you wish. I will return before the day is out. Keep the lanterns lit." The Dweller inclined their head as he strode out and touched the lamp, once again entering the Dream.

He looked up and saw the Doll looking down upon a tombstone, it marked Gehrman's grave. He regarded her in silence before making his way to the stone that would allow travel to Cainhurst, but her soft voice stopped him, "Good Hunter, what am I to do now?" He turned and looked at her, "Simply caring for the dream has been my duty for... a long time. Tell me, good Hunter, should this remain my purpose? Caring for unseen graves in a world beyond?"

"You've never asked me anything like that before. I didn't think you would even want to leave this place."

She smiled that small smile, "Perhaps I do not, but one must have purpose. And you, good Hunter, are all I have left to look to for such."

The Hunter regarded her, considering her words before speaking. The Doll was not quite human, he knew. She would never age, nor would she feel or think as humans did, but still she was close enough to have emotions of her own. Especially after the death of Maria and Kos, it seemed. He spoke then, "I'll think about it. Maybe I do have a new purpose for you in the world outside this one. But that's gotta wait, I need to talk with someone before I make any decisions." She inclined her head and returned to her vigil over Gehrman's resting place as he reached out to a stone and traveled to Cainhurst.

The ancient castle looked the same as he had left it, perhaps slightly more weather-beaten and overgrown, but as immutable and stark as ever. Slowly the Hunter made his way through the dusty halls, passing by the ever diligent maids, who never acknowledged his presence in their ceaseless cleaning. Old tapestries and rugs dotted the walls and floors, their slowly decaying cloth providing a musty scent that tickled at his nose and made him sneeze more than once. Dining rooms and bed chambers slid past him as he made his way to the throne room.

Then he was through the doors, striding down the carpet, and kneeling before his liege, Queen Annalise. She gazed upon him and spoke, "Closest of Kin, bearer of our blood, what is thy wish?" Her voice was filled with weariness, but also a muted pride in her last subject.

The Hunter steeled himself then and spoke his request, the idea that had come to him as he watched over the sleeping Arianna, "My Queen, your halls are cleansed, and the last of the hunters who sought thy blood is vanquished by mine hand. Thou knowest all my works, and even now thou couldst reach into mine thoughts and pluck from me the request that burns in my heart." He could feel her apprehension, undoubtedly assuming he would attempt to propose marriage to her once again. "My Queen, in my hunts I found some few survivors, women and children. A strange personage also I found, who I know only as the Chapel Dweller, as well as another who is not entirely human."

The Queen shifted, her gaze fixed upon the Hunter who had devoted life and limb to preserving her, her lands, and her honor. When she did not speak, he continued, "My Queen, I desire now only one thing. Take from me all regard and hope of higher standing if you will, but it is my deepest desire that thou wouldst allow them shelter in our ancient halls."

She spoke then, her voice soft, "My Kin, great have been thy works in our name and on behalf of Cainhurst. It would be remiss of us to deny such a request. But tell us of this one who is, as you say, not quite human."

Relief flooded him, but he did not allow his manner to change, for the Queen put great stock in proper behaviour, "A Doll, my Queen. Built by the hunter Gehrman in the image of Lady Maria, who I'm sure you know."

Queen Annalise let out a small, sharp breath. The only indication of surprise he had ever heard from her. She leaned forward in her throne, eyes boring into him, "Thou knowest of Maria?" In her voice was both longing and bitter regret.

The Hunter nodded, "I...fought her within the Hunter's Nightmare, my Queen. Wherein she had been imprisoned by the curse of Kos. Many hunters had been taken there, consumed by blood and sin they were forever doomed to remain. I apologize, your Majesty, but I was forced to kill her. However, to this day I retain the Rakuyo, in her memory." He hoped that this would not change the Queen's stance on his request.

She straightened, "Show me the blade, my Kin." Her voice was sharp and commanding, and he knew better than to hesitate. He brought forth the Rakuyo and held it before him for her to see. Queen Annalise was silent for several minutes before she spoke again, "Yet again I am forced to mourn my kin. Maria was... a special woman, and I sorely miss her, despite her associations with the Church. In many ways the two of you are similar. Thank you for remembering her with such respect, the Rakuyo is in good hands." The Queen seemed to have lapsed into less formal speech, but the Hunter did not press her.

"Thank you my Queen." He sheathed the weapon and awaited her response to his request.

He did not wait long, "You may bring these persons here. But know this, they are only guests. Unless they wish to drink of our blood. But such matters should be saved for later discussion."

The Hunter cleared his throat, "My Queen, one of them already seems to share thy blood. I have tasted it and-" He was startled as she rose to her feet.

"Thou knowest of one that shareth our blood?" Her voice was filled with both fury and longing, "Why hast thou waited so long to bring us news of our kin? What reason doth thou possess in hiding them from me, thy Queen?"

The Hunter remained kneeling, "My Queen, I am not certain of her heritage, and did not wish to give thee false hope ere she died by beasts, which was an ever present threat. Out of feeling for thee did I hide her existence, and even now I do not know for certain if she is of our blood. All I can tell thee is that within her veins is a blood that seems to burn like thine."

Queen Annalise stared at the Hunter, who stayed upon his knees before her. She drew a deep breath before speaking again, reigning in her emotions, "I am displeased with you, Kin. But I understand such reasoning. I shall send forth a carriage for those who wish to stay within our walls. Are there any other secrets regarding those of my blood that you wish to reveal?" The last question held the bite of anger in it.

"Nay my lady. And you have my utmost gratitude for sheltering these." He was relieved, exhausted, and anxious all at once. Eagerness to bring Arianna here filled him as he waited for Queen Annalise to give him leave to depart.

The Queen slowly sat in her throne, regarding her Hunter in silence for a few moments. She tapped her leg with her slender fingers and spoke, "Bring them hence, my Kin. And delay no longer."

The Hunter stood, "My Queen, where shall we find the carriage?"

"It shall arrive before this 'Oedon Chapel' ere night falls, my kin. Do not delay, for I know thou possess a method of travel beyond animals or thine own feet."

He bowed and turned, rushing from the hall in anxious haste to arrive at the chapel before night fell upon Yharnam once more. Both lamp and Dream were passed as he drove forward like a whirlwind, slowing only when he approached the doors of the chapel. One was still ajar from his departure, and within he could hear the voices of both Gascoigne's daughters and Arianna. As he entered he noted that Adella was gone from her seat. A questioning look to the Dweller only earned him a shrug and a look of confusion. He sighed, perhaps that was for the best, however.

He noticed then that the chapel had grown quiet and he turned to see Arianna slowly walking toward him. Her gait was unsteady, but she approached him with a look of conviction he knew would not be dissuaded. Once more the Hunter cursed how close he had allowed them to become, and he cursed his decision to leave her behind. Then she was standing before him, grey eyes locked onto his own.

"You found it? Our new home?" Her voice was soft, and he knew that she was holding something back. Something she could or would not say before the two young girls and the Dweller. The Hunter nodded and she allowed herself to smile at least somewhat.

"The carriage will be here at nightfall." He looked at the Dweller, "Have you decided if you will join us, my friend?"

"How can I leave these poor souls all on their own? Especially when they've been so kind. He he he... I will go, Hunter." The Hunter noticed then a small braided bracelet upon the Dwellers wrist. Those girls were too pure for Yharnam, or even Cainhurst for that matter.

"I'm glad, they'll need someone to watch over them after all." Arianna tensed and looked at him sharply, but he avoided her eyes and instead approached the two girls, "Did you hear that? You two get to ride in a carriage!" He attempted to put as much excitement into his voice as he could. Gods above he wanted these girls to have some peace in their lives.

The younger smiled and he felt himself almost weeping from the purity of it. Her elder also allowed herself a smile at the Hunter who had risen them both from the hellish streets of Yharnam. The Hunter felt the tears stinging his eyes as he stood. His greatest success would always be saving these two innocent souls and sparing them the nightmare that was this accursed city.

He felt Arianna's hand on his arm then, and turned to her, still avoiding her eyes, "Dear Hunter... may we speak before we go?" The Hunter could not say no, trapped as he was between her and the girls. So he merely nodded and allowed her to lead him to one of the Chapel's alcoves. He waited for the questions he knew would come, but she surprised him by saying nothing. Eventually he looked at her and saw tears in her misty eyes. He hated himself for causing those tears, hated that he would cause her more sorrow after this.

Then her hands were cupping his cheeks and she kissed him deeply. He froze, unable to respond as she continued. Then she pulled away and looked into his eyes once more, "Darling Hunter...please..." Those three words tore at him inside and out. He felt his willpower fading before her as her eyes continued to plead with him. Hating himself, yet celebrating at the same time, he placed his hand behind her head and drew her back, their lips meeting once again.

He felt her closeness, her heart beating strong and fast, her quickening breath. He reveled in it even as he was filled with guilt. Arianna's hands drifted down to his shoulders and his own arms wrapped out her in a tightening embrace. The Hunter had ached for this closeness for so long, but had refused it out of duty. Now that duty was gone and he let himself get lost in her.

What felt like hours passed and Arianna finally withdrew, her eyes bright and her face flushed, "Darling Hunter..." Her whispered words caressed his ears as she rested her head against his chest, feeling safer than ever in the arms of the one who had fought so hard to keep her alive.

Deep within, he hated every second of what he was doing, knowing all this did was make leaving harder. But the rest of him took hold of the simple grace that was human contact and wrapped him up in it. For so long he had gone without so much as a touch upon his brow, and now this feeling threatened to overwhelm all his convictions to set himself apart from her. He looked down at her and allowed himself to simply enjoy their embrace, closing his eyes.

Then he heard the rattle of wheels and the clatter of hooves upon stone and gently pushed Arianna away, "Your carriage is here... Take the girls and the Dweller. I'll meet you there, I promise." She looked at him to protest but he placed a finger over her lips, "Trust me, please." She nodded, although her eyes bespoke her unhappiness, then turned to gather her things before leaving. When she looked around again, the Hunter was gone.

He stepped into the Dream and fell to his knees, beating at the ground with his fists, "Fool! Weak-minded buffoon! I should be cursed for allowing such a thing to happen!" He raised his face to the sky and howled in agony, crying unto the dead moon.

Then the Doll was there, her cold but gentle arms wrapping about him and holding him against her. "Good Hunter, what troubles you so?" Her soft words drifted to him like a feather borne by the wind. He continued to howl into her until his voice became hoarse, then he began to weep, shaking and sobbing as regret and guilt tore through him more viciously than any beast. The Doll held him until his weeping subsided.

His voice rasped as he spoke, eyes stinging and body shaking, "I swore to myself that when this hunt ended I would depart and never again return. I swore that in order to keep those I cared about safe, should I become a beast." He gripped her skirt until his knuckles went white, "I attempted to guard my heart against attachment, I tried so hard to keep myself apart... And now..."

"Have you fallen in love, Good Hunter?" The Doll's hand ran through his hair as the simple question hit him like the fist of God.

The Hunter struggled, then bowed his head shrieked in the agony of truth, "Yes!" He wept at the pain of admission, howled in self-loathing, and trembled with sorrow. All the while the Doll held him like a mother would hold a broken-hearted child.

Time passed and his weeping slowly ceased. The Hunter looked up at the Doll, who regarded him with that inscrutable expression she almost always wore. He choked on his words as his torn throat agonizingly allowed him to speak, "Thank you."

"Of course, good Hunter. I was made to assist you. And have I not always done so?" He slowly rose, with her help, and wiped his face.

He stumbled to the pool of water in the Dream and drank deep, feeling the soothing coolness alleviate his pain. The Hunter then stood once more and looked to the Doll, speaking slowly he said, "I have new purpose for you." He saw her smile and continued, "My Queen has agreed to allow both you and the survivors I have found to stay within her castle. I know it's nothing like what you've done here but..."

She bowed her head slightly, "I am pleased to have purpose once more, good Hunter."

"I'm glad you accept. I've... always felt like I haven't shown you the gratitude you deserve. You've always been here for me, at my weakest and my strongest. You're...almost like the mother I never had." He let that last out with some trepidation, unsure if she would approve.

The Doll simply smiled once more, "Such appreciation of my nature is unnecessary, good Hunter." She curtseyed then, "But I am pleased you feel so."

The Hunter stepped forward and looked to the Cainhurst stone, "Is there anything you need before you leave with me?" She shook her head, pale hair drifting through the air, "Alright. Take my hand then, and I'll take you to my Queen."


	4. C3: Breaking Point

C3: Breaking Point

" _Haven't you sent the emissary yet? The board is breathing down my neck like a dragon."_

" _ **We sent the emissary out hours ago. But this 'Hunter' keeps moving around. We can't get a sufficient lock on him to transmit him to the Arena.**_ _"_

" _I should have known it would be something like that. Dammit all, send the Ambassador."_

" _ **You really must be desperate to get this one if you're sending them.**_ _"_

" _You have no idea."_

Quite naturally, the Hunter and Doll arrived before the carriage Queen Annalise had sent for the survivors. As such the Hunter was obliged to explain where they were twice, once to the Doll (although she had not asked for such clarification), second to the rest of the ragtag group. "It's more or less empty. The only people who live here are a few maids and the Queen herself. I made sure of that, VERY sure. Believe me, the only things left alive are the things I let live."

Not that Annalise could die, but that particular detail could be glossed over to avoid scaring Gascoigne's daughters any more. The two young girls clutched at Arianna's skirt and shivered with cold and fear as they looked upon the grim castle. The Hunter's attempts to placate their misgivings met with only marginal success as he led the motley group through the massive keep. It was certainly warmer within, somehow he never saw any snow inside despite the fact that there obviously should have been at some points. The warmth, however, helped the new arrivals adjust, which the Hunter appreciated immensely.

By the time they reached the throne room, the girls were tired, and even Arianna was stumbling slightly. Only the Hunter and Doll were unaffected by the trek, despite having helped to bear the Chapel Dweller through the many hallways and rooms. Under the cover of allowing them rest, the Hunter took the opportunity to educate the survivors on how to properly address and behave before Queen Annalise. Arianna needed little instruction, which solidified some of his suspicions about her.

After a painstaking hour, during which both meals and relief breaks were had, and as much instruction as the Hunter could manage to give without the sensation of his Queen's impatience overwhelming him, they finally entered the throne room. The Hunter entered first, the rest trailing behind him, and presented those he had brought to Annalise.

Kneeling, he spoke, "My Queen, I have brought those thou hast permitted within our aged halls. And I shall introduce them, shouldst thou allowest such." After waiting for a response and receiving none, he rose and beckoned to the Doll, who was carrying the Dweller in her gentle arms, "This is the Doll, whom I mentioned afore to ye. In her grasp is the Chapel Dweller, who gave such survivors as would come, shelter and friendship, throughout the Hunt."

The Queen looked upon the two as the Dweller attempted to bow and the Doll curtseyed with surprising grace, given her current state carrying such. Quite lost for words, the Dweller was relieved of the duty of speech by the Doll, who simply stated, "Honor unto thee, o Queen. And many thanks for thy care of the Good Hunter." Gehrman, it seemed, was able to instill much more into the Doll than the Hunter knew.

Annalise inclined her head slightly and the Hunter gestured. In response the Doll carried the Dweller off to one side, and Arianna brought the two girls forward. The young ladies curtseyed as best they could, their unofficial guardian doing so with far more skill. The Hunter cleared his throat and introduced the three to his Queen.

She looked upon them inscrutably before saying, "Not not afraid, dear children. For, though mine castle may seem bleak, thine friend hath made safe our halls for all who so wish to live here, free of ill intent. And thy stay will be a comfortable one." Her statement seemed to mollify her audience, the Hunter observing much tension flowing from them.

Arrangements were then made for each to live within the ancient keep, rooms for all, and new clothes pulled from long untouched closets for all to wear. The Hunter, of course, seemed to avoid having the same treatment applied to him, always dodging the issue by being busy with something else. He knew that ploy would not last, so he resolved to depart sooner rather than later.

Of course, Annalise had to speak with both the Doll and Arianna privately. Not even the Hunter knew what transpired in those conversations between them, but judging by how pleased his Queen seemed to be afterward, he decided not to worry too much about that. As evening approached, he found himself at the walls, looking out over the frosted countryside surrounding Cainhurst Castle. He mused upon the days events as he surveyed the grounds. The Hunter knew Annalise would never admit it, but his Queen was elated by even this little activity within her walls.

He felt Arianna behind him then, the shifting in the air proclaiming her presence before even sound or scent reached him. Scent, hers had changed. She and the others he had brought had all been allowed to bathe and change. He knew the smell belonged to her, but for the first time, the scent was true, no longer buried by the sweat and tears the Hunt had brought. The Hunter allowed her to approach him without speaking and she stood by his side, also looking out over the grounds, "Home..." she whispered the word as if it were sacred.

The Hunter nodded, "A good home for all of you, I hope. My Queen will provide, I'm certain." He again felt her tensing up, knowing she had picked up on the way his words separated him from the rest. If only she wasn't so perceptive, this could be easier. But that selfsame perception gave her some of that brilliance that set his heart to aching.

"Dear Hunter...Why do you speak like you are leaving? Can you not stay with us?" He knew she was begging more for herself than for the others, but still that weight pressed upon him. He stared at a dead snag of a tree in the distance, not trusting himself to speak. Arianna would not let him remain silent, however, and turned his face toward hers, "Dear Hunter, please. I need to know, my heart aches for your words."

He looked into her storm colored eyes and sighed, "I... never intended to stay where other humans lived, Arianna." The pain her sorrowful expression gave him was like a cold spike through his body, "I... can't. Not because I don't care about you, but because I care too much." He felt his throat begin to tighten, "Hunters...we can become the worst beasts of all. Killing our own families, forgetting everything but the thrill of violence..." Looking away from her to hide his own tears he continued, "I can't do that to you... In a way... I am the last beast to protect you from."

Arianna grasped his hand, "I...Understand, dear Hunter. But..." He couldn't help himself, he looked back into those stunning eyes, "Please stay with me this one night. Share with me the one thing we have not yet known together. Let me forever hold in my heart the memory of the Hunter who makes it beat."

He stared at her, lost for words, and to some extent lost for thought. She was asking of him the one thing that would irreparably bind them together. She was not asking for an act of lust or simple physical companionship, as she had given to many who had paid for such services. Arianna had laid before the Hunter a desire to be one with him to the point that neither of them would ever be entirely separate again.

Arianna's soft, lilting voice came to him again, her deep grey eyes locked onto his with a quiet yearning that almost brought him to tears, "Darling Hunter..." Silently he begged her not to say that last word, the one he knew was coming. He tried to speak, to do something to stop her, but he could not. "Please." She spoke that final, fateful, word.

The Hunter, already straining to resist her, broke. How long had he fought the feelings he held for Arianna now? Ever since she had come to Oedon chapel he had been drawn to her for some reason or another. First driven to protect her, then seeking out soft words of some comfort from her, then simply wishing to look at her. There was no helping it anymore, no resisting what both of them had burned for.

With one swift motion the Hunter lifted Arianna into his arms, eliciting a small gasp from her. She looked at him, eyes wide with gentle shock as he turned to bear her within. She lightly allowed her head to rest on his shoulder, blonde locks falling over the alabaster skin of her face as her Hunter carried her to his chambers.

As the Hunter lay her upon the bed, they looked into each other. Both knowing that this would be the first, and likely last, time an embrace would be shared between them. With this knowledge they came together with both fervour and patience. Yearning for the touches and gasps to come faster, yet aching for all of it to last forever. Together they spent the darkness, as one they warmed the long cold air of Cainhurst.

Morning came and Arianna opened her eyes to see the scarred torso of the Hunter before her. Slowly she touched his chest, wondering once more at these symbols of how hard he had fought for her, for all of Yharnam. He shifted beneath her gentle fingertips and she looked up at his face. He was awake, golden eyes shrouded beneath the curtain he used to hide his emotions. She had seen that curtain lift last night, and never would she forget his raw and wild feelings.

The Hunter kissed her brow before rising, and Arianna fought back a sob. Her Hunter was leaving now, for good. And she had next to no hope of ever seeing him again. She forced herself to remain silent as he donned his clothing and the long armored coat he wore on the hunt. She bit her tongue as the tattered hat settled atop his head.

In his own mind, the Hunter fought to control himself as well. Trying not to dwell on the glorious warmth of Arianna's skin, fighting the memory of her caressing touch, suppressing the urge to go back to her arms and let go of all else but the feeling of her affections. The Rakuyo's familiar weight settled at his hip and he turned to look at the blonde woman he had allowed to shatter his convictions.

The stared at one another, etching each other's features into their minds, never to be forgotten in the years of separation. Even should one die, the other would never forget. Then he left without a word, and Arianna kept her peace. She knew that if he heard her weeping it would break him, and so she remained silent until she heard the sound of the great gates of Cainhurst closing. Then she wept, long and bitterly, for her Hunter.

At least two months had passed since the departure from Cainhurst, the Hunter felt dull, utilizing the technique for holding his humanity back that had allowed him to cut brutal and bloody swathes through the beasts of Yharnam, Cainhurst, and the Nightmares of Mensis and Kos. As he stepped out of the hovel he had built, however, he heard an unfamiliar footfall beside him and whirled, Rakuyo leaping to his hands as if it had a mind of its own. Standing before him was a tall man.

The air around the man seemed...unnatural, and the Hunter was reminded of the feel of an Old One as the man approached. The man's clothing was strange, cut in a fashion the Hunter had never seen before, and colored deepest blue. The fit was almost... tight, it appeared, hugging the man's form like a second skin as he bowed to the Hunter, "Lord of Cainhurst, I am the Ambassador." The man's voice was like a silk covered stone, pleasant to listen to but filled with a hardened will.

"What do you want, stranger?" The Hunter kept his guard up, watching the 'Ambassador' with the same care he'd use when confronting a fellow hunter. The Rakuyo traced small circles in the air as he kept his body moving.

"To extend an... invitation, and an offer. I'm sure you'll find the second quite pleasing." The Ambassador straightened, "It is my duty to recruit... heroes, for a certain tournament my employers oversee. You have come to the attention of our investors and they have seen fit to extend the privilege of participation to you." He reached into a pocket and drew forth a letter, handing it to the perplexed Hunter. "That is your invitation. It will allow you to travel to our Arena should you choose to do so."

The Hunter took it and looked at the Ambassador, "Whats the offer then?"

The Ambassador cleared his throat, "I am instructed to present you with the following information regarding our facilities in the hopes that it will sway you to accept. Due to the nature of persons such as yourself, we have found it necessary to... manipulate the Arena's temporal interaction with other realms, such as here." He gestured vaguely at their surroundings.

"What is that supposed to mean? And how is THAT an offer? It sounds less like an exchange and more like an... advertisement." The Hunter opened the letter curiously, skimming the tightly written message within. How in the world did anyone write that small?

"It means, Hunter, that time flows differently in the Arena. A second could pass here while a decade passes for you. Of course we have stymied the effects of aging as well, and are quite adept at manipulating when we arrive in our own independent timeline." The Hunter just stared at him, "Simply put, you can live in the Arena as long as you like, and then return here as if nothing had happened at all. Our offer is this. You will be allowed to travel freely between the Arena and your own world, provided that you fight for us."

The Hunter's eyes widened and he felt his gaze being drawn towards Cainhurst far to the east, where he knew Arianna still waited, yearning for a return that she hardly dared to hope for. This Arena...it would give him time to suppress the blood, to hold the beast within him back. Then... he could come back and...

"I see that the nature of our facility interests you. I am instructed to inform you that in order to travel to our realm, you must take that letter to the creature you call 'Amygdala'. Good day, Hunter." Without further ado the Ambassador walked away, his body slowly turning to dust and vanishing upon the wind, leaving no trace that he'd been there at all.

The Hunter stood there, dumbfounded, for what felt an age. Then he also left, seeking out the nearest lamp, almost a week of hard travel from where he was, but that wasn't about to stop him. This Arena was a second chance at Arianna, at being human. There was absolutely no chance he would pass it up. Gear across his back, coat flapping at his heels, and Rakuyo at his waist, he set out.

Six days later he stood before the lamp. The soft azure glow strong as ever, and filling him with a homesickness he did not know lay within him. As he stepped into the Hunter's Dream, the feeling got stronger, and he had to steel himself not to look at the Cainhurst stone. Instead he touched that of Cathedral Ward, almost weeping from how close he was to returning to Arianna's side.

The convoluted stone streets of Yharnam stretched before him, and the smell of decay was somehow...dulled. Like everything had long since become tired of rotting and smoldering. Dust dominated the achingly quiet roads and alleys of the once wealthy city. Dust that his heavy boots stirred as he stood before Amygdala. As the grey hand reached out to grasp him, ethereal energies whirling in its palm, the Hunter closed his eyes. He felt himself being lifted, then crushed into complete blackness.


	5. C4: Otherworldly Heroes

C4: Otherworldly Heroes

" _ **Director, the Hunter has arrived.**_ _"_

" _About time. This time manipulation gives me a headache. How long did this take?"_

" _ **For us? A week. In the Hunter's world, almost three months.**_ _"_

" _Fantastic. I'm sure the Ambassador's bill will be oh so light. Have the Hunter prepped for his first fight ASAP. I'm sick of waiting."_

" _ **Yes, Director. Do you have a particular opponent in mind?**_ _"_

" _Make him fight The Witch."_

The Hunter felt the air resolve itself around him and slowly stood, opening his eyes and looking about himself. Wherever he was, the builders had a distinct obsession with white. The walls, the floors, the ceiling, even the lights emitted colorless light that never wavered. The entire situation was rather unsettling, like he'd stepped into a world that was yet incomplete, and was seeing a room that had been forgotten while all else was built.

Before him was a door, again white, with a rounded knob of some silvery metal. Slowly he approached and opened the door, taking cautious care before opening it fully. Beyond the door was a hallway, and the far end of which actually seemed to be some color. Red, upon the floor, from what he could discern.

The Hunter slowly journeyed down the hall, hand never leaving the Rakuyo at his side as his purposeful strides carried him closer to wherever it was he was going. He stepped onto the red carpeting of this newest room and looked about himself. What was this place? It seemed to be an... armory of sorts? Tall, slim closets made of what seemed to be glass held armor and weapons, many of which were beyond his comprehension.

He shivered. The Ambassador had told him little of what manner of beings fought in this Arena. The resulting lack of understanding left the Hunter feeling slightly overwhelmed and in some way, almost afraid. Fear was good, he knew, if controlled it helped you understand your limits and capabilities. Still, he kept it under tight rein as he passed the final row of armor closets.

Another door. This one more imposing. There was no knob or handle upon it, only a simple red symbol etched into the surface, a circle bisected by an off center cross. He reached out to the door and it slid open, natural light pouring from the area beyond. And with the light, came noise, the noise of thousands of people all moving, talking, laughing, screaming... He had the sinking feeling that his first experience in the Arena would be a violent one.

Steeling himself, the Hunter walked through the door and was rewarded with a sudden gasp and the sound of a booming voice crashing down upon him. " **Ladies and Gentlemen, genderless beings and aliens of all kinds, welcome to the Arena! Today we have the pleasure and priveledge of presenting to you our newest warrior! THE HUNTER!** " Again that collective gasp. A second voice bellowed forth, " **Yes indeed good beings, and what a fighter he will be in our amazing tournament! Born by blood, blessed by Old Gods, and a slayer of Nightmares, the Hunter has an impressive resume to bring to our noble Arena!** "

Bemused the Hunter strode forward somewhat further, eyes having adjusted to the light. Before him lay what seemed to be an artificial island of some sort. Pieces of floor floated in the air above the main mass, and the whole thing seemed to be decorated like some kind of forest. Across from him was a woman, dressed in skintight black, and looking rather bored. She caught his eye as he approached and gave him a slow wink that seemed almost sensual.

" **And who is fighting the Hunter today Tony?** " Asked the first voice. The Hunter had no idea where these massive beings were that were shouting so loudly, but they had to be nearby if they could see him.

" **Why Ricky, none other than the one and only Umbra Witch, Bayonetta!** " Tony's statement drew gasps, oohs, and cheers from the crowd.

" **Well then! What are we waiting for! Start the countdown and lets get ready to SMASH!** "

The entire Arena roared with the count, " **THREE, TWO, ONE – FIGHT!** "

Before the Hunter could do much more than draw the Rakuyo he felt bullets flying past him and instinct took over, causing him to roll to one side and use the trees as cover. He heard Bayonetta's mocking laughter as yet more projectiles slammed into the flora. He took several breaths then lunged out as soon as there was a lull in her firing. He timed the move correctly for her reloading, and stabbed forth at the Witch's torso.

But something seemed to shift as he struck out. The world around him flitted by for a few moments before a sudden striking pain hit him in the back of the head, sending him rolling across the island. The Hunter swiftly regained his footing and wiped the side of his mouth. He didn't quite understand what had just happened, but he understood enough to get a sense of what to avoid now.

Bayonetta winked at him again, her husky voice coming to him from her position several meters away, "They talked you up big. Show me what you've really got." He stood and readied himself once more, changing the Rakuyo's stance and wielding the two pieces in both hands. Within him flared to life the once familiar flame of battle, and he couldn't help but become excited by the prospect of once again diving into the fight.

The Umbra Witch watched the change with a knowing smirk, then started firing at him once more. Neither of them wasted any more breath on bantering words as they clashed. The Hunter driving forward, avoiding or simply ignoring Bayonetta's bullets as she kept the barrage going. When he finally got close enough to strike, she once again activated her counter, seeking to trap him in a pocket of witch time.

He had learned, however, and when the Umbra Witch touched the ground The Hunter struck forth with as strong an attack as he could muster. The Rakuyo would have plunged directly through the sensual woman's torso, but something kept the blade from inflicting a mortal wound upon her, and instead she was sent flying across the island, barely skidding to a halt before falling off the edge.

The Hunter lunged after her, not one to allow any advantage to go unexploited. But Bayonetta kicked out as his ankles, causing him to roll to one side and giving her the time to regain her footing. Once again they faced one another, deaf to the roaring crowds and blaring announcers, they watched one another like hawks, slowly circling. Both of them were on the edge of attack, all that was needed was an opening, a trigger of some kind.

It came in the form of a luminescent multi-colored ball suddenly blazing into existence between them. The Hunter was caught off guard, and Bayonetta immediately took the chance to smash the ball with a volley of pistol fire. He watched her as her body was enveloped in ever shifting flames of energy, and she smiled at him. Then the world stopped.

The Umbra Witch strode forward and placed a hand on the side of the Hunter's head, smirking, "Let's see what makes you tick." Then she opened his memories and viewed them for herself. She wasn't expecting anything like what she saw in them. Blood and death and anger and fear, all of these and more all came crashing in at once as the unfiltered horror of the Hunt was laid bare before her. She was so overcome with shock that she stumbled away from him, clutching at her head, eyes wide and mouth open in a gasping shriek.

The Hunter stared at her as time resumed. He was more than a little confused by what he saw, Bayonetta was on her knees, hands covering her head, hair swirling about her almost like a million maddened snakes. He heard her gasping and wailing, saw her trembling with what he knew all too well was horror. The Rakuyo struck, and Bayonetta was launched into the arena wall, light bursting forth and a single word resonating throughout the colosseum, " **GAME!** "

He watched as the unconscious Witch was borne away upon a stretcher, suddenly very tired. He barely heard the confused babble that was the crowd as he turned to walk away from the island. Where before there had been nothing connecting the island to the rest of the arena (after the bridge that had allowed him onto it had disconnected), there was now a set of stairs descending from the stage. He took them, one at a time, until he reached the ground.

What had happened to Bayonetta? That question rang inside his mind like a bell. She had obviously manipulated time again using whatever energy that orb had given her, and something had happened during that temporal event that had sent her into that state. Lost in thought, but not so blind to his surroundings as to walk into any obstacle, the Hunter wound his way to the door he presumed was the exit.

Passing through the doorway he felt a strange sensation, both cold and warm, painful and soothing. A sudden itch covered his whole body and he shook for a moment. Then it was over and he felt...good. Better than he had in months, truth be told. He looked at his arms and hands, eyes widening as he saw that his scars and wounds were all gone, even those that had decorated him since the Hunt began. The Hunter gazed at his hands, almost missing the marks that he had carried throughout his struggles.

The scent of a wolf reached him, mixed with the scent of smoke and metal. The Hunter immediately tensed and looked around himself, and his eyes found the source. Standing on it's hind legs, clothed in strange raiment the Hunter had never before seen, with something glowing covering one eye, stood a lycan. With instinct born of his nights spent hunting, the Hunter went still.

The beast had seen him, to be certain, its violet and bestial eyes were locked on the Hunter. But something felt... different, there was no sense of murderous bloodlust coming from it. That alone was uncommon enough to stay the Hunter's hand before reaching for Rakuyo. The two watched each other with the guarded calm of mutual predators.

The wolf spat, "So you're 'The Hunter', huh kid?" It's voice was almost a snarl, low and bestial as its owner growled out the words. When the Hunter didn't answer, the wolf snorted, "Don't get any ideas, _kid_. I'm just scoping the competition." He eyed the Hunter, "But don't think we're friends, either." The wolf's tail swished in irritation, "Say something, kid. Unless the Witch stole your voice when she tried getting in your head."

The Hunter narrowed his eyes, "Tried to get in my head? Is that what she did before that...attack?" He thought back to Bayonetta's distraught state, if she had seen the Hunt... what he had fought, that could very well have unbalanced her. The Hunter did not know anything about the woman, but he felt a distinct sense of pity for her if she had glimpsed into his past.

"That's the only thing you're gonna ask me about, kid? Really? I half expected you to try and kill me when you looked at me." The wolf let out a barking laugh, "Not that you could, kid." Those feral eyes once again bored into the Hunter, "You'd best get used to being beaten kid, it's all you'll get from me." Without another word the wolf left the room, leaving the Hunter in a state of weary perplexity.

The Hunter leaned back against a wall and sank to the floor, staring at the ground between his boots. What, in the name of the Gods, was this place? Were there more creatures like that here? Capable of reason and speech like any normal man or woman? So many questions whirled about in the Hunter's mind that he began to feel almost overwhelmed.

During the Hunt, curiosity had served a small purpose, if any. Many of the questions the Hunter had about the city, the Hunt, and the Gods, were all pushed back from the immediate purpose of hunting the beasts and monstrosities that stalked the night's in Yharnam. But now that he had time to actually question and consider what was happening, he didn't feel at all prepared for the barrage of questions his mind presented him with.

Bowing his head, the Hunter took several deep breaths and closed his eyes. With a slight grimace he reached inward, attempting to access the Insight he had gathered throughout the Hunt. That selfsame Insight that allowed him to interact with the Old Ones and peer into the mysteries beyond water, could it provide him with the answers he sought? As the eyes within opened, the Hunter felt his sight broaden. Details that his mortal eyes missed were presented in excruciating clarity.

With a shudder, he closed off the flow of Insight and opened his worldly eyes. Standing up slowly the Hunter shook himself. None of what he saw within gave him the answers he wished for, only more questions. With a labored sigh he looked to the door the wolf had left through. So many doors he had walked through, each presenting him with new things to consider. The Hunter grimaced slightly before exiting the room, and entering an amphitheatre.

Beyond the door as a multitude of people, and at first the Hunter was unnerved by the number of apparent combatants in the Arena. Then he began to discern that assumption was not quite correct. Many of those gathered had no sense or scent of battle, and almost none were clothed for anything even mildly resembling a fight. The Hunter slowly walked out into the light beyond the doorway and was suddenly barraged with flashing lights and strange people all bellowing for his attention.

Questions and demanding statements bombarded him as he stood, stock still, trying to process the sudden sensory overload that threatened to overwhelm him. Resolving to ignore them he slowly took a step forward, looking straight ahead and hoping against hope that none of these people would actually prevent him from going...wherever it was he was walking. In all honesty he just wanted to get away and get away fast, the noise and confusion was too much.

To the Hunter's relief none of them prevented him from moving forward, and he made steady progress to the far side of the amphitheatre, maintaining his outward appearance of stoic silence with great difficulty as he tried not to run. At long last he reached a guarded door and was allowed through, the crowd behind him, thankfully, was not. As the door closed behind him he stumbled to a chair and shook himself. He was starting to think that this entire situation was a bad idea, if he was overwhelmed by beast blood here... it could be disastrous.

A hand touched his shoulder and he sat bolt upright to see a blond man dressed in green standing before him. The clothing resembled some villagers clothes the Hunter vaguely remembered seeing, but beneath it was chainmail, and strapped to the man's back was a sword and shield. The man spoke then, his voice soft but strong, "Breathe." The stranger's blue eyes pierced the Hunter, who instinctively followed the simple command.

As the Hunter drew in deep breaths he could feel the anxious tension leaving his body. He looked up at the green-clad stranger, "Thanks. I don't know if I could have handled another second of that." The stranger nodded, smiling slightly. "What's your name?" The Hunter asked him.

The stranger stood straight and readjusted his odd hat, "I'm called Link. I've heard the announcers call you 'The Hunter'. Is that yours?" Link stood before the Hunter, posture lax, yet somehow wary. The Hunter wondered if Link had faced anything like Yharnam's beasts before.

"Close enough." Was the Hunter's answer. At Link's raised eyebrow the Hunter shrugged, "When I became a Hunter, I decided to give up everything I had been before. It's not a choice many of us make because it's so... high a price. But I had little to hold on to anyway. My name, my family, everything that came before the Hunt, I abandoned all those memories to give myself the edge." Link's blue eyes again pierced the Hunter, who elaborated, "In the Hunt, you cannot afford to let anything distract you. You have to focus totally on killing the beast, otherwise..." He sighed, "the beast kills you."

Link studied the Hunter for several moments more before nodding, "If that's the way it is." The green warrior shifted his weapons on his back, "I suppose I'll be the first one of us to say this then, Hunter." The Hunter looked at him curiously, and Link continued, "Welcome to the Arena."


	6. C5: Adjusting

C5: Adjusting

" _What the hell happened in there?"_

" _ **From what we can tell, Bayonetta attempted to access the Hunter's memories. She has done with others before, if you recall. The resulting trauma has left her... unresponsive.**_ _"_

" _Excara madel shifta. What's the recovery looking like?"_

" _ **The Umbra Witch remains largely unresponsive, Director. Though from the scans it appears that her psyche is slowly recovering from the shock.**_ _"_

" _Tell Dr. Amherst that she has clearance for that test of hers. I want Bayonetta back in the fight as soon as possible, got it?"_

" _ **Yes, Director. Right away.**_ _"_

Arianna looked out of her window, not really seeing the pale white beauty of the land without. Every day she looked to that jagged pass, searching for any sign of the Hunter's return. And every day the Hunter remained apart from her. She would have wept, were not all her tears spent and dried. The young girls the Hunter had given her to care for had been some help, their child's innocence providing her with peace and joy.

And yet... she could not shake the sensation that her darling Hunter was farther from her now than he had ever been. She lightly ran one delicate finger over the pane of glass, the cool surface somewhat rough. Arianna would have given anything to have her Hunter back. She knew how much he hurt, how the Hunt had wounded him inside and out. Their last embrace had shown her how desperate he was for healing. Yet now they were apart, and she could do nothing for the man to whom she owed everything.

The sound of soft footfalls came to her from the door, and she turned to see the Doll standing there, hands demurely placed upon her skirts. The Doll had come in the morning as she always did now, she curtseyed and spoke, "Good Lady, how may I assist you this day?" The Doll's soft voice flowed in the air to Arianna, who almost dismissed the Hunter's former companion.

Then she decided against it and said, "I wish to know more of...him, the Hunter. Will you tell me?" For the months since the Hunter had left her Arianna had barely thought of the past, only yearning for the future dream of his return. Yet now, a desire to know more of the man who had saved her rose up within her.

Silence permeated the air as the Doll regarded Arianna with quiet contemplation. Just when Arianna had thought the Doll would not answer, however, the Hunter's companion spoke, "What would you know, good Lady?"

Arianna drew in a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knew would most likely be the most gruesome and unholy account she would ever hear, "All. I wish to know all." She would not regret hearing of what her Hunter had done for her, and all of Yharnam. She swore to herself that when he returned, she would use this knowledge to heal him inside and out.

-x-

The Hunter groaned, slowly regaining his feet as the blast subsided. Whatever this Samus person had done hurt him worse than any beast had. Somehow those glowing orbs let these fighters do things beyond their normal capabilities. As he rose a sudden throb of pain went through his head and he gasped, almost falling back to his knees. He had hit the wall hard enough to crack his skull, it seemed, and the pain was excruciating.

Two Arena medics came to assist him through the door, and he leaned on them gratefully. A week of fighting here, once a day, had taught him that none of these gladiators were what they seemed to be. He had won his share of bouts, but every time an opponent seized that multicolored ball, he inevitably lost. The Hunter himself had yet to shatter one, and was apprehensive about what might happen when he finally managed it.

Along with his own fights he had observed many contests between others, and he vividly remembered one combatant transforming into a beast larger even than Amygdala. He trembled at the memory, his skin crawling as he imagined something similar happening to him. The medics had finally drawn him through the door and he felt the now familiar sensations of the healing field restoring his body. After a quick once over he was cleared to go back to his quarters and the medics left.

The Hunter, however, did not leave the post-game room just yet. Instead he sat on a bench and stared at the floor. He had no desire to face those massive crowds, in fact he would rather sleep in here than walk through that crushing chaos again. With a long sigh the Hunter shook his head, he was out of his depth here. There was so much going on that he had no means of understanding.

After ten minutes his 'agent' came into the room, all toothy smiles and joyous demeanor until the door shut behind him. Then it was all business, "Hunter, we've been over this. You could sit here for a week and they'd never leave you alone. Let's just get this over with so we can both relax." This agent was supposedly The Hunter's public representative, and was in charge of the Hunter's public image and interactions with what they called the 'press'.

"I know, but I still need to breathe after getting hit with something like that." They both knew this was an excuse, the healing field had taken care of any damage, no matter how severe. But the Hunter didn't care, he would use any reason to delay going through that crowd, "One of these days I hope they'll just let me go in peace, Ray."

Ray ran a hand over his shaved scalp, sighing, "Look, Hunter. I know how you feel, believe me I do. I don't like all of that" he gestured toward the door to the amphitheatre, "any more than you do. But all this is doing right now is making them desperate. The longer we wait in here the worse it gets out there." He held a hand out to the Hunter, who took it after a moment. Ray pulled the Hunter to his feet, "I'll do all the talking, just like we agreed, alright?"

"Why any talking has to be done at all is beyond me. But thanks, Ray." The Hunter was genuinely appreciative of his agent's willingness to shield him from public scrutiny. As the two of them passed through the door, Ray immediately made good on his promise, deftly answering any questions put to the Hunter and keeping away anyone who tried to get too close. Both of them steadily made their way to the far doors and passed into the area beyond, where only a select few were allowed.

The Hunter felt Ray slap him on the back, "That wasn't so bad, now was it? But would it kill you to smile at them? You look grim enough without the constant scowling."

"It's just my face Ray, we've been over this." Indeed they had, several times. But Ray persisted on the grounds that the Hunter needed a better image. Although what image had to do with anything was beyond the Hunter himself, it seemed to matter a great deal to his agent.

The armored form of Samus loomed over them both and the Hunter looked up at her now bare face, she having removed her helmet. She held out a hand to the Hunter and he shook it as she spoke, her voice hard, but not unpleasant, "You're fast." Her curt way of speaking wasn't surprising, from what The Hunter understood, Samus had spent much of her time on her own as well.

He released her hand and nodded, "I've had to be. You're not so slow yourself." Indeed, the Hunter's rapid movements had been all that had saved him from being defeated earlier in the bout. But even then it was a close thing, the bounty hunter had many forms of attack, and had constantly harried him whenever she'd had the upper hand.

A half smile flashed across her stern expression, softening it for a moment, "Next time, don't let me get the smash ball." She nodded to him before turning and walking away, her heavy footfalls echoing in the broad hallway. The Hunter shook his head, appreciating the underlying joke in her statement. Ray also took his leave of the Hunter, and left him alone in the ornate hall.

When the Hunter had first come into the hall beyond the amphitheatre, he had been on the verge of panic, and had not really taken in his surroundings until after Link had helped him calm down. But once he had, he was nearly stunned by the opulence of just this one hallway. The ceiling was at least twenty feet high, supported by carved white columns which had deep crimson drapes hung between them.

The walls and floors were made of polished stone, and the center of the hall was overlaid by a red carpet trimmed with patterns woven in golden thread. Upon the sides were lights that were both bright and hidden at the same time, placed as they were along the walls to supplement the light from the complex fixtures hanging from the ceiling. Carved wooden benches were placed between each column, the polished dark wood supporting cushions of yet more crimson coloration.

All in all the place had stunned the Hunter once more. But now he was starting to adjust to it, and it had given him some ideas for how Cainhurst itself should be refurbished. Many people owed him personally for saving businesses, homes, and lives. If he could sway craftsmen and others to either take up residence in the castle, or merely help with its restoration...

As they always did, thoughts of Cainhurst led his mind to Arianna, and his heart ached once more for the gentle brushing of her fingertips against his skin. He could almost hear her voice, sweet and soft, welcoming him back to her. The Hunter clenched his fist, fighting back the urge to weep. The Hunt had only brought him to tears on a few occasions, mostly of fear or horror, some of anger. But never before had this agony of separation plagued him, and he felt it far worse for its duration.

He shook his head and walked back to his rooms, lost in thought. So lost that he almost walked straight into Link and Marth. The two swordsmen looked at him with a combination of surprise and amusement. Link spoke, his tone dry, "Did Samus really hit you that hard?"

"Hard enough to crack _your_ skull, no doubt." The Hunter grunted in return, putting on a mask of irritable gruffness. Surprisingly enough, Link had become a fast friend of the Hunter's, the green-clad swordsman providing the lone fighter with quite a bit of assistance, both in and out of the Arena. Marth was still somewhat of a stranger, the blue-haired prince seemed withdrawn most of the time, and the Hunter wasn't the pushy type.

Marth half-smiled, "An impressive feat that would be. I've yet to see the hammer that could crack such stone as sits atop Link's shoulders." The prince's smile broadened as this rare moment of extroversion took its toll on Link. The Hunter suppressed a grin of his own at the expression of wounded consternation upon the green swordsman's face.

The blonde hero rolled his eyes and spoke in sarcastically beseeching tones, "Gentlemen, please. Spare me your verbal sword play. If you wish to do battle let us do it with steel in our hands, not razors in our mouths." The eloquent speech was likely meant as a jibe at Marth's on habitual speaking patterns, and all three men laughed after a few moments.

"What's bothering you, Hunter? You looked like you were a million miles away and then some." Whatever Link and Marth had been discussing prior to the Hunter's arrival, it was apparently not all that important, as both of them seemed more interested in his own thoughts.

The Hunter grimaced slightly. He was not at all fond of talking about the past, and he hadn't brought up Arianna in any conversation thus far. Still, it was likely inevitable that he would have to speak of such things eventually, and at least here he was in the company of friends. "Before I came here," The Hunter gestured vaguely at the Arena in general, "I was in self-imposed exile. Due to what I have done, and what has been done to me, there's a pretty good chance I could turn into a beast."

Link raised an eyebrow, "This again? You've told me about this before, Hunter. And you know that I'm not about to let you lose your mind any time soon." Marth remained silent, expression pensive as he considered the conversation taking place.

"I had to start somewhere didn't I?" The Hunter sighed and lifted his hat to run a hand through his unruly hair before settling it upon his head again, "I wasn't worrying about that. I was... remembering someone." He could feel his throat begin to tighten and his eyes begin to sting. He cursed inwardly, but somehow welcomed them as a sign that his feelings for Arianna had not dimmed. Both Marth and Link remained silent, waiting for him to continue, so he did.

"Her name... was Arianna." Gods it almost hurt to say her name, "I saved her during the Hunt one night. Ever since then she's become, well, important to me. And... the night before I left everything and everyone..." The Hunter's hands curled into tight fists as his entire body shook with the effort of holding back the waves of raw emotion that coursed through him, "We became one, that night. And I left her. Of all that I departed from, I miss Arianna the most."

Several moments passed before someone spoke, surprisingly enough that someone was Marth. "We've all left things behind, Hunter. I once abandoned my home and sister to invaders. The choice was necessary, but to this day I feel guilt for that decision." The blue-haired swordsman looked him in the eye, "But just because it was painful, does not mean it was wrong. I'm sure separation is better than whatever awful things could have occurred should you have stayed."

The Hunter scowled, hearing his own reasoning didn't make him like it any more. But Marth was right, he had come to the same conclusion. Then Link spoke as well, "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't go back, either." He looked at the blond hero, who continued, "No matter how much of a beast you might feel, you'll always be a man in the end. Just hold on to your humanity, Hunter."

He looked between the two of them, then slowly let himself relax. With a tired nod he asked, "Can we go... somewhere else? I'd like to get my mind off this."

Link nodded and exchanged a look with Marth, "Sure. There's still places around here I haven't shown you, and you still owe me that one on one. You may be good with that fancy sword, but I bet I'm better." Marth chuckled and Link gave him a look, "Don't you start, your _highness_. I've beaten you a fair few times."

"Your three to my five, Hero of Courage." Was Marth's only reply. Link stomped off, muttering. The Hunter followed, already feeling more at ease. Perhaps the two were right. Maybe the Arena was the right place for him, and when the time came, he would return to Arianna. That thought gave him a renewed drive and motivation. If he was going back to her, he would go back better than before.

 **I have decided at this point to express my appreciation for those who have already read, followed, and favorited this story. Furthermore I wish to ask any who are willing, to please review. I welcome your feedback and would greatly appreciate it. May your hunts go well.**


	7. C6: Peace in the Garden

C6: Peace in the Garden

" _Are we ready to start assigning the brackets yet?"_

" _ **Unless you want Bayonetta to sit this tournament out, no.** "_

" _Hasn't Dr. Amherst found out how to fix her yet?"_

" _ **She has a method, Director. But it requires the Hunter's cooperation.** "_

" _If the Hunter is being too stubborn, we can always threaten him."_

" _ **It's simpler than that, Director. Dr. Amherst simply hasn't gotten around to asking him yet.** "_

The Hunter turned the half carved block of wood in his hands, lost in thought as his fingertips drifted over the surfaces he had so far managed to shape. He had no recollection of ever whittling before, but it certainly seemed that his hands remembered. A remnant of the life he had abandoned when becoming a hunter, most likely.

The air around his stirred as the arboretum cycled its atmosphere. Samus had explained, in short words and with a shorter temper, that the facility was a man made system designed for both comfort and the provision of breathable air. The Hunter had been awed by it at first, but now he simply enjoyed the simple quiet that permeated the atmosphere. It reminded him a little of the Hunter's Dream, but even there he had carried the weight of the Hunt. Here, he could simply be, without anything but his own thoughts and desires to disturb him

Once again the slim blade of the carving knife began to cut away at the wood in the Hunter's hands, shaping a curve in the cloth of a skirt. When he had started cutting away at the wood, the Hunter had only a vague idea of what he wanted to create. As he had progressed, however, the simple desire for a wooden figure turned into the urge to form Arianna's visage. As it was, he had only just finished carving the general shape, and now it would be more difficult.

A small current of air was disturbed as someone else entered the vast arboretum, and the Hunter noted that whoever it was could either fly, or weighed next to nothing. Neither of which was that unusual amongst the many and varied combatants in the Arena. He chose to ignore them and focus on the carving, the blade in his hand carefully shaving away pieces of wood from what would become the base, and the hem of Arianna's dress.

Again the air stirred as the unknown personage passed closer to him. He caught the faint smell of open air and what could only be described as the scent of the wind. Vague recollections of that tugged at his mind, but he pushed it away as the tip of his knife dug into the wood, where the gap between hem and base would be. The scent grew stronger, however, and he finally looked up.

Before him was a woman, fair of skin, long green hair flowing down her white robed figure. Behind her head hovered a sigil seemingly made of pure light and in her hand was a white scepter, decorated with a crystal at one end. She regarded him silently as he took her in. He knew who she was, of course. Palutena had been pointed out to him a few times before, but they had never spoken.

"I did not expect to find anyone else here." Her voice was soft and almost musical, sounding exactly like a Goddess' voice should, like the wind and sky had poured their respective beauty and power into a single tone, "You are the Hunter, yes?" He nodded, and she spoke again, "What brings you to these gardens?"

The Hunter shrugged and made a vague motion with one hand that was intended to indicate their general surroundings, "Its quiet. I haven't had much of that for a while." He looked down at the rough hewn semblance of a human being that would become a replica of Arianna, feeling each of the contours and wondering what the next step should be.

He did not expect the goddess to remain to speak with him, but she surprised him, "What is it you shape, Hunter?" Her tone was not that of someone making small talk, but genuine interest. Once again the Hunter raised his gaze to Palutena's, meeting her gaze levelly, "I do not wish to impose, but I do admire art in all it's forms."

"You're not imposing. If I look angry, that's just my normal expression." The Hunter lifted the figure so that she could see it more clearly, "It's not anything yet, but it's going to be... someone." He hesitated before saying Arianna's name, knowing that would almost certainly stick in his throat.

Palutena looked at it, then at him, "The person whose image you fashion, they are important to you?" Her perception did not particularly startle him, though it did put him in the position of explaining about Arianna. And he wasn't entirely sure about Palutena's nature just yet, he'd had bad experience with "Gods" before. As a form of response the Hunter nodded, trying to convey his desire to remain silent on the matter. But the goddess wasn't about to drop it, "What is their name, Hunter?"

A sigh escaped the Hunter's lips, "Her name is Arianna." He half choked on the name, as he'd feared would happen, but he felt the need to clarify why he was carving her in particular, "She and I... well, she's very important to me." The words came out lamely, but he didn't know exactly how to express what he felt for the blonde haired courtesan who had so completely taken possession of his heart that he couldn't go one day without a pang of sorrow at their separation.

Again the goddess surprised him, "Then why did you leave her?" The Hunter's jaw tensed and he stared down at the figure in his hands. Palutena continued, "I have seen affection among others here, temporary romances that bloom and wither in the space of months or years. Very few have the love necessary to carry it with them into the Arena." She paused, possibly waiting for a response, then continued, "Yet, just by listening to you speak of her, I can hear the things you do not speak. The emotions which you struggle to express are apparent in your voice and motions."

The Hunter still didn't look up, choosing instead to focus on his visualization of what he would carve from the wood. His thumb passed over where Arianna's face would be and he remembered the kiss they had shared in Oedon chapel. The sheer thrill of that memory almost set him to tears. He spoke softly, "You hear a lot of things I'm not saying, apparently." Finally tearing his gaze from the wood he looked up at Palutena, "Why would I leave her, you ask?"

The air stirred again as the aboretum renewed the cycling of air. The resulting wind stirred both Palutena's robe and the Hunter's hair. He continued to speak, soft and slow, "Because if I stayed, then she could very well be dead by now." A humorless smile touched his lips, "There is corruption in my blood, and I've seen men kill their own wives and children as a result of it. The reason I am in this place and not in her arms is my desire to contain my own beasthood."

Palutena accepted everything he said in stoic silence. After waiting for several moments she replied, "I apologize for opening such a sensitive subject, Hunter. I allowed curiousity to get the better of my sense." He raised an eyebrow, a goddess apologizing?

Suddenly a question sprang from his lips before he had a chance to consider it, "Divine one, how do you treat your worshipers and those who pray to you?" The question seemed to shock the green haired goddess, and she regarded him in silence. The Hunter cursed his loose tongue and tried to clarify his query, "In my world, the closest we have to gods are what we call Great Ones. And while some of them are... sympathetic, many of them do not seem to notice us other than to brush us aside when we interfere with their plans." He saw her expression become a mixture of shock and indignation, "I'm not insinuating that you are the same! I merely...I just want to know what it's like to have a kind god."

She stared at him, eyes wide, and he looked at the ground. Palutena gazed upon this mortal man with pity and respect. He had lived in a world where individual lives meant little to those above, and those below were used and discarded. She knew little of the Hunter's world, or his past, but his last statement put him in a place where loss and sorrow were commonplace, and joy was scarcely found. A slow understanding arose within her as she realized why this Arianna was so precious to him.

The Hunter felt a gentle brushing touch on his shoulder and looked up into Palutena's empathetic eyes. Her right hand rested upon his forehead and she spoke, "Hunter, though I am not God in thy world, take with thee this blessing. I bless thee, Hunter, that thou wilt return unto thy Arianna. And when thou dost return, thou shalt be whole in body, mind, and spirit, such that no fear of foe may arise from within or without." Her hand glowed softly as the blessing took hold. It was not a guarantee by any means, but it was hope.

He was dumbstruck by her benediction, and tears began to flow from his eyes as she lifted her hand from his brow. With a small smile the goddess took her leave of the silently weeping Hunter, who bowed forward, clutching the wooden carving that would become Arianna to his chest. After a long time he wiped his eyes and set once more to shaping the figure into the form of his heart.

Hours later he gazed upon the completed figure of Arianna in his hands. He stared hungrily into her face, as if Arianna would be able to speak to him through the facsimile. Gently he ran a finger over the carved hair and sighed. If he had one regret about leaving the way he had, it was not telling Arianna the most important thing of all. For some reason neither of them had said it, and it felt like a paltry replacement to say those words unto a mere carving. But he felt he owed it to her to say it at least once. Holding the figure before his eyes the Hunter took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak.

A rough disturbance in the air and the sound of heavy footfalls interrupted him and he looked toward the door. The smell of fur came to him and his instincts told him to reach for a weapon. Instead, he gently placed the figurine in his coat pocket and moved to leave the arboretum. Before he could, however, Wolf stepped in front of him. The two faced each other, a wolf and a hunter staring in the eyes of their rival.

Wolf's voice growled forth then, "Someone wants to talk to you, kid, in your rooms. Someone important or I wouldn't be here right now." The two maintained eye contact, neither wavering or blinking. The Hunter inclined his head in acknowledgment. Slowly they passed one another, the Hunter reaching for the door to leave as Wolf spoke once more, "Kid, do yourself a favor. Keep your nose out of trouble or you'll get bit." With that the canine warrior strode off into the trees.

The Hunter silently accepted those parting words and departed for his rooms. Unconsciously he wrapped one hand around the carving of Arianna in his pocket. As he walked through the halls he passed by several other fighters, some he was more familiar with than others, but he was at least of all their names.

As he turned the last corner and passed by a jubilantly bouncing Kirby and an annoyed Meta Knight, the Hunter saw that someone was indeed at his rooms. A woman with grey hair, stern expression, and a white robe over blue clothes. He approached her warily and she looked at him, "About time. Most everyone said you stayed in your room. Where were you?" She waved a hand before he could answer, "Doesn't matter. Follow me, we've got important work to do." The crisp tone in her voice told the Hunter that she was used to her orders being obeyed.

But instead of immediately following the woman, the Hunter bypassed her and went into his room. He could feel her glare on the back of his neck and her tone became frigid, "Either you come with me or I-" She paused as the Hunter set his carving on the small table beside his bed. He turned and looked at her, saying, "Lead the way."

Her icy blue eyes bored into him, then she spoke, "My name is Dr. Amherst. And you, Hunter, are going to help me fix something. Or rather someone."

The Hunter fell in beside the doctor as she walked briskly down the hall, "Who am I helping you 'fix'?"

She didn't even look at him, "Bayonetta."


	8. C7: Of Madness and Mackerel

C7: Of Madness and Mackerel

" _Why am I looking at the Hunter's world?"_

" _ **Because, Director, we've discovered a way to... motivate him.**_ _"_

" _What, threaten the woman? You know I don't approve of such methods."_

" _ **No Director, quite the opposite. Offer to cure her."**_

The Hunter looked down at the prone Bayonetta, the woman looking strangely different in repose. Something about her tugged at the edges of his mind, almost as if there was a mask over her that he could not quite see. A frown creased his expression, the words of Dr. Amherst going unnoticed as he attempted to penetrate the mysterious veil over the Umbra Witch. Without thinking, he reached out to touch her.

An echoing shriek that howled and gibbered beyond words coursed through him, splashes of color and sensations ranging from cold pleasure to grating pain racked his body. Gritting his teeth, the Hunter opened his Insight to perceive what was truly there. What he saw made his entire being, from body to soul, freeze with absolute fear. An immutable blackness was before him, and from it came the sound of a voice.

Amherst jerked the trembling Hunter away from Bayonetta, who also seemed to be in the grasp of some seizure. The doctor looked into his face and let out a muttered curse, from the man's eyes blood flowed like tears. The Hunters hand jerked and grasped the doctor's wrist, his nails digging into her. His eyes opened and he looked at her, pupils dilated and face taught.

The look he gave Dr. Amherst frightened her so badly she let him go and recoiled. Instead of falling, however, the Hunter bowed forward and, using a knife he carried, carved a symbol into the floor of the room. The glyph was writhing and twisted, mutilated lines webbing out from an oblong center. Then he collapsed, entire body going limp.

The elderly doctor was about to call for a nurse when she heard the sound of heels on the floor behind her. Turning she saw Bayonetta towering over her, the witch once again dressed in her tight black, "Such an ugly thing to have in one's mind, I must say." She commented dryly to Amherst, "Almost as ugly as some angels I've met."

Almost casually the Umbra Witch lifted the Hunter with one hand and eyed him critically, "Hmmm, looks like he didn't handle it very well at all." With a theatrical sigh, "I do so hate having someone attempt to drive me mad, however. So I suppose I should be thanking him for the help."

Amherst finally overcame her shock and spoke, "Bayonetta, put the patient down and please allow me to ensure that you are in full possession of your faculties and that no lasting damage has been done." Ever the cool professional, she wasn't about to let some supernatural nonsense to keep her from doing her job, not for long anyway.

With a throaty chuckle Bayonetta winked at Amherst, "Oh, believe me, worrying about he and I will only make things worse. I think I'll give him my own brand of... medicine." A wicked look crossed the witch's face, "I'll take VERY good care of him." One finger traced the Hunter's jaw and down his throat and she licked her lips.

"Absolutely not, he's in no condition to-" Amherst was cut off by the Hunter coughing and removing Bayonetta's hand from himself. Both women watched as he wiped his face and looked at them, his expression haunted.

He spoke, his resonant voice rasping somewhat, "There's nothing more to be done, Dr. Amherst. Believe me when I say this particular... affliction, is beyond medicine." The Hunter's eyes looked to the rune he had inscribed upon the floor and he shuddered. Then he turned to Bayonetta, "I'm impressed you lasted so long, to be honest."

"Oh, I do so LOVE impressing men with my stamina." The witch stretched sensuously, "Mmmm, but I am stiff after lying still for so long. I could use a hand loosening up." Her eyes met his, and the Hunter raised an eyebrow, "That is, if you haven't already worn yourself out, which would be very disappointing."

He let out a low bark of a laugh, "You didn't talk with it. But no, I'm not entirely 'worn out' yet. I wouldn't have made it this far if that was all it took to lay me out." Noting the increasingly irritable expression on Amherst's face the Hunter said, "I think I'll be eating now, though. Somehow I feel like a good bit of meat would help me more than more strain's on my endurance."

Without another word he left them both, Bayonetta half smiling, Amherst fuming. The rune hovered before his eyes and he shuddered at the terrible voice that had spoken it unto him. Even now it whispered in his mind, his abundance of Insight making it all to easy for him to hear. The Hunter could, of course, suppress that sense. But doing so required a great deal of effort, and he could spare none.

Without really realizing he had already made his way into the circular plaza of eateries, restaurants, and vending machines – The Hunter found himself waiting for a plate from a place with a distinctly... alien look to it. He knew that all food was fit for consumption for all the contestants, so he wasn't worried about that too much. Again he felt himself slipping into distraction as his mind struggled to comprehend what had occurred.

Again his mind slipped into a reverie as he ate, struggling to focus on even that simple task. Absently he ducked a thrown tray from King Dedede, the metal disc flying at the pink Kirby who had eaten De's dinner for the third time. Without really watching the two play cat and mouse around the court, the Hunter gradually made his way through his own food.

Another plate hit him in the back of the head and he winced, rather rudely yanked back into reality by a misplaced throw from the large blue penguin. Slowly the Hunter stood, then turned to regard King Dedede, who seemed to be trying to apologize, but was stammering so badly that he couldn't quite get the words out.

Silent and deliberate, the Hunter crossed the intervening distance with what was left of his food. He had finished eating and had been simply picking at it for the past several minutes. He stood before De, then dumped what scraps were left on the king's head, "Dinner is served, your majesty." The Hunter said without so much as a hint of sarcasm.

Silence permeated the air, not so much as a breath disturbing the silence. Then, slowly, King Dedede wiped a splatter of sauce from his face. Everyone remained still as the penguin picked off a loose scrap of food. Then he flicked it into the Hunter's face.

All Hell broke loose in the plaza after that, with Kirby in the center of the chaos, gulping up any and all loose food that crossed his path. Dedede was a storm himself, throwing plates and glasses around like there was an army of invading overly fastidious dishwashers bearing down upon him. Off to one side stood Samus, who no one seemed to hit with anything for some reason. At another table, looking resigned and tired, sat Link, who had mustard plastered across his back.

Eventually the hubub died down and what was left were a dozen fighters laughing, laying on the floor, a combination of those, or just shaking their heads at the nonsense. The Hunter had escaped relatively unscathed, Dedede and Wolf (who had arrived in the middle of it all only to get a fish thrown at him) had received the worst of it. Somehow the entire situation felt liberating to those present, even the more hardened veterans among them inwardly admitted it was a nice reprieve from the past few days of grim tournament preparation.

It felt like a sort of shroud had been lifted from them all, and they all enjoyed it. Just cutting loose and having fun instead of worrying about fighting or training or whatever else might being on. What none of them were expecting, however, was the staff making them do the cleanup. Kirby did most of the work on that front, his remarkable digestive system proving its versatility. Still, sweeping, mopping, vacuuming and scrubbing it all took the better part of an hour. None of the participants complained however. Some of them even started a water fight, albeit much more subdued.

After it was all over the Hunter returned to his rooms, chuckling and shaking his head as he remembered the look on Captain Falcon's face when Dedede had inadvertently slipped and fallen on the F-Zero pilot. He had almost forgotten that morning's encounter with that vast, inconceivable being. And on the whole, the whispering had died down a great deal. He felt much better, admittedly.

He sat on his bed and stretched, looking at his carving of Arianna, "I'm sorry you missed this. I'm sure you would have smiled had you been here. When I get back to you, I promise I'll make you laugh." A smile spread across his features as he touched the figurine, "I've never heard you laugh yet, so you owe me, eh Arianna?"

Something strange had changed in him then, his agony from separation becoming eager anticipation for his return. Instead of holding the past, he was now looking forward, unto the future. It gave him a sensation of freedom, like a shackle had been loosed from around his neck. He slept with a smile, dreams of returning filling his sleep.

-x-

Dark. Silence. Eternity. All these things and more was She. Some called Her the Darkness Between Stars, others Mother of the Moon. Her own name was beyond mortal speech, and Her existence was beyond mortal comprehension. Such it was, which is why something akin to mortal unease filled Her. Two mortals had survived the mere knowledge of Her, when that simple fact had driven many to madness.

She felt a shifting in the universe, and such things were distasteful to one such as She who had dwelt since dawn. Stretching forth with Her vastness She touched the mind of a servant, who bowed in suitable supplication. The servant accepted Her instructions and went to do Her bidding, seeking out those mortals who had survived. It was only fitting that She should be obeyed. She who was greater than all others.

 **I apologize for the shortness of this particular chapter, but I've been struggling with a few corners I managed to write myself into with the last six. I did enjoy the break from the constant bleakness that has been far too overpowering, however. Thank you all for your patience and your continued readership. I would greatly appreciate any thoughts upon the story that any of you may have. Please, give me feedback, ideas, and theories. I'd love to hear them.**

 **Good hunting.**


	9. C8: Blood Mad

C8: Blood Mad

" _ **Director, everything is ready for the brackets to be shown.**_ _"_

" _It's about time. I swear every year this gets harder."_

" _ **Perhaps due to the constant changes?**_ _"_

" _Obviously. But something still seems off about this time around. Make sure the Hunter is monitored."_

" _ **As you wish, Director.**_ _"_

The Hunter stared at the figure above him, the shade regarding him with inscrutable pale eyes. His body would not move, and his voice would not call out. All he could do was lay still and watch as those milk white eyes studied him from the ceiling. Slowly the eyes grew larger, until they seemed mere inches from his own. Panic gripped him, and his frenzied heartbeat increased. The shade spoke then, words that seemed to echo through sight as well as sound.

The Hunter did not understand it's speech, but he saw runes flash before his eyes, some familiar, others not. His locked voice strained to howl as the pale-eyed being continued to speak to him. Sweat made his body chilled and clammy and the Hunter felt his blood surging, burning, and writhing within himself. Those echoing words went on for what seemed to be hours, endless, agonizing time that crawled by with dreadful slowness.

Then something inside him shifted. Changed to become something other than what he had been or would have become. And with that shift he understood one word of the pale eyed shade. The word was not from any language he knew, nor any that graced mortal tongues without pain. The meaning of it was clear unto him. The word burned inside him, its rune hovering before his minds eye, the same as he had scored into Amherst's floor, and he writhed beneath the darkness that held him.

Blood

His eyes opened wide and he sat up, grasping for his sword as his gaze swept the room. Nothing was there, no dark shade, no oppressive weight. The Hunter did not relax, however, and searched extensively before slumping back onto his mattress, head in his hands. He tried to recall the nightmare, but certain things slipped away from him despite his efforts. In the end all he could remember was the shade, his immobility, and that one awful word.

The Hunter's skin crawled as he saw those eyes in his memories, and he let out a shuddering breath. Within him he felt a stirring in his blood, some deep seated urge welling up within his veins. Sound reached him then, blessedly normal sound, but it caused him to jump and reach for Rakuyo all the same. The noise had been a knock upon his door, it had not been especially loud or insistent, but it had felt like the booming of a great drum after so long in silence.

Trying to restore some measure of calm, the Hunter stood and opened the door, albeit with some caution. Standing before him was the tall, lithe, black clad form of the Umbra Witch, Bayonetta. Her expression seemed to be a cross between amusement and petulant irritation. Frayed as they Hunter's thoughts were, the presence of this overwhelming woman did little to help settle his nerves. Hi blood stirred again, like an animal slowly rousing from slumber.

The witch looked him over, slowly and deliberately until the Hunter felt his cheeks begin to burn. She spoke in that sultry voice of hers, "Hmmm, did someone have a rough night? You're quite the mess, Hunter." The Hunter looked at her levelly, "I have to say, the last time I saw a man in this condition, he had been much more pleased by my presence."

"Not in the mood Bayonetta." He tried to keep his tone calm, but couldn't stop a bit of growling irritation from seeping into his voice. Apparently she thought this amusing, as her smirking half smile told him. Annoyance climbing despite his attempts to suppress it he asked, "What do you want?"

"Well, I did, come to say thank you." Her gem like eyes glittered, "But it seems that I could show my gratitude far better by helping you relax." The witch's smile became somewhat smug as the Hunter tensed, "What's the matter? Is there something on my face? Or perhaps..." she stretched languidly, "you noticed something else?" With some satisfaction she noted the rising color in his face.

The Hunter's reply was grating, and he no longer tried to hold back his annoyance, "Well, you're welcome. And at the moment, the last thing I need is YOU 'helping' me." He put an emphasizing twist on the word helping, partly to indicate that he saw right through what she was trying to do, partly to try and irritate her. His blood surged yet again, the animal half wakened from its sleep deep within.

Bayonetta regarded him calmly, his verbal barb ineffectual, "Is that really how you feel, Hunter?" She let her voice drop, "Or perhaps you're just hiding what you want." Her words were rewarded with a flash of confusion across his face, pressing him she spoke again, "You want something, don't you, Hunter?" She leaned forward, staring into his green eyes, "I'm very good with wants like yours."

Inwardly he seethed at her refusal to leave, the combination of her and the blood was taking its toll, not to mention the amount of strain his mind had been subjected to during the night. The Hunter fought to maintain self control, but he felt that shift in himself destabilizing him. He had to do something, had to control the surging, burning, snarling beast that was almost fully awakened. His breathing quickened and his heart pounded even harder.

The Umbra Witch looked into the Hunter's eyes again, she could see the struggle inside them, could almost feel the heat from him. She touched his jaw and a shudder went through the Hunter's body, but he did not otherwise move. Bayonetta studied him as her finger lazily drifted down his neck, those emerald eyes of his locked on her own.

Her touch was like an electric shock for the Hunter, causing his entire being to react. Struggling even more to hold on to himself he cast his mind for something, anything that could bring him back from the precipice. Grey eyes wavered in his minds eye, like clouds in the center of a storm. The animal snarled and the memory began to fade. Scrambling to hold on to the one thing that had got him through the Hunt, he focused on those eyes.

The Hunter saw the encroaching shadows on his vision, could feel the beast clutching at his mind. The eyes were so far away... who did they belong to? Blood surged within him and the hunter felt it almost like a blow. It sent him to his knees, and he neither saw nor heard Bayonetta's attempts to get him to stand. Another surge and he was on all fours, gasping for air as his veins burned.

Blood

He wanted it, the craving for it roared in his mind. Vague memories of a vial came to him, but it that was not enough. The bloodlust rose ever more, burning him from the inside out until almost nothing was left. The urges recoiled from one part of him, however, something...strange and powerful. But it was buried deep within, and presented no resistance to the desires that raged about it. His fingernails scored the floor with deep gashes as his hands clenched into fists.

Bayonetta took an involuntary step back from the Hunter as he remained on the ground, trembling and panting. Something was in the air about him, brutal, violent, bestial. She realized then that it was not her the Hunter had been struggling to resist, it had been this. With decisive certainty she bound the Hunter within tightly wound bands of hair. As he was lifted before her she saw the green of his eyes becoming more golden, the yellow eyes of a wolf.

A crisp step came from the hall to her left and she looked to see an Arena staff member. A man dressed in a severe suit, with grey hair and none of the wrinkles on his face that would normally accompany it. The man continued walking toward them with brisk strides as Bayonetta continued to restrain the Hunter, who's body now seemed to be shifting within his bonds.

The staff member took out a small wooden box when he reached them, and, after winding a small brass key, opened it. Soft, somehow melancholy, music poured forth from the box, making its gentle way to the Hunter's ears. His reaction was immediate and almost violent, a howl tearing from his mouth as his struggles to free himself increased. But as the music continued the struggled slowly ceased.

The Hunter slumped in Bayonetta's hair and did not move. After several minutes the staff member put the box away, then strode off as if nothing had happened at all. The Umbra Witch watched the Hunter carefully, trying to ascertain if the danger had really passed. Once she was sure she carefully took him back inside his room and laid him on his bed. She couldn't help but notice a wooden figurine, however. A carving of a woman made with such care and detail that it could have been a real person.

The witch looked at the prone Hunter, then to the figure. Carefully she picked it up and examined it, taking in every last mark and curve. After several minutes she placed the figure back where it had been, then waited for the Hunter to wake up. She didn't have to wait long, after a little while he stirred and groaned, green eyes opening slightly.

He felt awful, worse even than when the Orphan of Kos had beat him within an inch of his life. His entire body felt like he had been both set and fire then frozen over and over again, sickness welled up inside him as he opened his eyes. He was on his back, in his room, on his bed, and he could smell Bayonetta nearby. With a pained gasp he sat up and looked at her.

The Umbra Witch did not meet his gaze, "Next time warn a woman if you're going to start turning into an animal. Its quite an unpleasant shock for the middle of a conversation." Though her tone was flippant, almost offhand, the Hunter also heard a tinge of regret. His eyes searched her face until she sighed in exasperation, "What?"

The Hunter remained silent for several more moments before speaking, and when he did his throat was raw and sore, making him nearly whisper, "Did you save me?" She didn't react so he assumed she had not heard and forced his rasping voice to be louder, "Bayonetta, did you sa-"

Her voice cracked like a whip, "I heard you the first time." She looked at him, "And no, I didn't, I just tied you down while someone played music in your ears." She straightened and turned away from the Hunter then, "I'm going now, Hunter. If you miss me I'm sure you can find me. Then we can talk, alone. Until then." And with that, she was gone.

He sat in silence for a time before looking at the figure of Arianna. If only he'd held more tightly to his memories of her, maybe he wouldn't have changed. Sighing he reached out and took up the carving, his fingers drifting over the familiar contours. With some surprise he noticed something hanging from her, and picked it up. A strand of long black hair had been hanging from the base.

-x-

Arianna once again felt the melancholy of separation well up within her as the sun slowly drifted down over the mountains, painting the sky orange. As she had done for the past two and a half months she looked to the singular pass that allowed access to Cainhurst. When she did, however, she saw that this time someone was walking down the aged road. She could not make them out clearly, but whoever they were, they walked with a slight limp, it seemed.

She stumbled down the halls of Cainhurst, not even thinking to take the wooden cane the Queen had provided to aid her weakening muscles. She had been increasingly confined to chairs and her bed for the past weeks, but she did not care just then. If that was her Hunter returning, she would crawl to see him, as he had done to see her.

The heart wrenching memory of the battered Hunter returning to Oedon Chapel one night, legs broken and covered in blood, caused tears to cloud her eyes. She ignored the stinging drops as she struggled down the final flight of stairs. With a burst of effort she forced herself to the door and opened it. Outside, in the dimming courtyard, the limping figure drew nearer.

Arianna's heart sank, now that she was this close, it was clear this person was not her Hunter. With a groan she sagged to the floor as her weak legs gave way. Whoever this person was, they wore hunter's garb, of that she was sure, but she had never seen it quite like that. They wore a cloak that appeared to be made of... feathers?

The stranger stopped before the door and looked at her from beneath a mask. This hunter was a man, short and stocky, with swarthy skin and dark eyes. He spoke, a deep voice rumbling forth, "Who are you?" The simple question was spoken without much force, but its authority was plain.

She responded dully, her raised hopes being dashed having rendered her quite uninterested in whatever this strange hunter was doing here, "I am Arianna. And you are?" She asked more out of habit than actual curiousity. Her Hunter was still missing, and that left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Arturo, I am a hunter of hunters."


	10. C9: Purpose

C9: Purpose

" _ **Director, would you like to review the notes from this morning?**_ _"_

" _No. What I'd like is to have a few words with the Hunter."_

" _ **Shall I set up an appointment? You do have an opening next week.**_ _"_

" _No. Bring him to me now."_

" _ **As you wish, Director.**_ _"_

Arianna leaned on the Doll for support as they made their way up the stairs from the doors, Arturo having left mere moments before. Her weakened legs seemed even less inclined to support her weight now that her fervor had gone. In silence they passed down the halls of Cainhurst until they arrived at Arianna's rooms, wherein the Doll helped her into her chair, which she sat in with a sigh.

The blonde courtesan glanced more out the window, and saw the limping form of the feather cloaked hunter of hunters retreating down the pass. Her lips pursed as she watched him go, knowing that she likely hadn't dissuaded the bleak-faced man from seeking out her Hunter. There was some small satisfaction for Arianna, however. Not even she knew where her Hunter had gone, and the crow would be hard pressed to find him.

She felt a damp cloth on her face and looked at the Doll who was wiping away the streaks of tears. Remembering what the Doll had said of the Hunter, she felt compelled to ask, for what was probably the hundredth time, "When will he return?" Arianna knew the Doll had no way of knowing, but something about the gentle way the Doll spoke reassured her.

"The good Hunter will return when his hunt is done." Came the soft reply. Now finished with washing Arianna's face, the Doll retrieved several tablets of antidote from a store of them the Hunter had apparently left behind. Arianna took the tablets and swallowed them, not that they had done much good in slowing her sickness. Once again the fear that she might pass on before her Hunter's return welled up within her.

She gripped at the arm of her chair. She had survived Yharnam, and that awful birth. There was no way she would let herself give in when her Hunter was still alive. Sickness or no, Arianna would remain steadfast and patient. After all, the Hunter had saved her from more than just beasts and death. He had saved her from the loneliness in her heart.

Arianna looked to the pass, her blonde hair drifting past her cheeks as she murmured into the air the words she'd been unable to speak before her Hunter's departure. She prayed for the wind to carry them unto his ears, that he may know them. With a sigh she picked up the book she had been reading before Arturo's arrival, and soon the sound of slowly turning pages and soft breathing was all that could be heard within the room.

-x-

The Hunter wiped the stinging blood from his eyes as he stood up, left arm aching and right not much better. His eyes remained fixed upon the foe before him, however, never allowing the diminutive winged swordsman to escape his view. Whatever Meta-Knight had done in that shroud of darkness had definitely shifted the battle away from the Hunter's favor. With a pained grimace the Hunter straightened and felt more blood seeping down his back. It was either end this now or surrender, and he never was one for giving up.

Ignoring both aches and pains, the Hunter closed his eyes and focused upon his small opponent with his other senses. The pain of blood disrupting his sight would only hinder him, and the cut upon his brow was bleeding profusely. With care and patience the Hunter began to dodge the darting yellow short-sword, waiting for that one moment where his opponent would get just careless enough to allow him to counter attack.

The whistle of blade through air became more frustrated as the Hunter continued his patient waltz between the slashes and thrusts. Then he felt it, the frustrated over extension that signaled the opening he had been waiting for. The Evelyn pistol lifted and a quicksilver bullet struck true, stunning Meta-knight and allowing the hunter to grasp him by the helmet. A split moment passed, then the Hunter slammed the fighter into the ground with as much force as his battered body would allow.

It was enough, the blow sent Meta-Knight careening off the side and into the Arena's wall, causing the perimeter to flash with light. The echoing voice of the announcers called out, **"** **GAME!"** and the Hunter let out a long breath. Slowly he sheathed both Rakuyo and Evelyn, then began to make his way to the exit and the healing field.

He passed through the familiar field, relaxing somewhat as the strange sensation of all his wounds closing washed over him. The Hunter wiped his face, ineffectually trying to remove the blood that had dried on his eyelids. With a rueful sigh he walked along one wall, hand resting upon the strangely smooth surface to help guide him. There was a sink here somewhere, he knew.

As he reached it and turned the faucet to allow water to pour forth, he heard the far door slide open. The sound of the footfalls and that busy air told him it was Ray who had just entered. The Hunter washed the blood from his face as his agent approached. The bald man sounded ecstatic, "They love you out there right now, Hunter! I could barely get here through that crowd."

The Hunter looked around, slightly amused, "What great tidings you bear. Tell me, is it stoic silence or dismissive reticence that so entices these 'journalists'?" He smiled at Ray's exasperation, "You know I'm just making fun of you, right?"

With a sigh and a nod Ray acknowledge the statement, "Yeah, yeah I know. And you HAVE been getting better at making small talk with them." He gave the Hunter a penetrating look, "But you're going to have to sit down for a full interview sooner or later. And believe me, I'm not enjoying reading, listening, and watching these people practically BEG for your attention." Ray shook his head, "Believe it or not, your 'silent hero' thing is getting you more attention than ever. You'd best be prepared when you go out there."

"No amount of preparation is going to be suitable for what I'm about to walk through." The Hunter replied in wry tones, "I thought swarms of beasts were bad, but at least the beasts left me alone after I killed a few hundred. I can't fall back on that out there." He thought he heard Ray mutter something like 'Thank God' but chose to let it slide. "I suppose I'm ready as ever for this. Though I don't think I'm going to be used to it any time soon."

Together the two of them left the post match room and stood before a crowd that always seemed to be bigger than the Hunter remembered it being before. He and Ray slowly wound their way through the massive throng toward the far doors. Before they made it even halfway, however, they were stopped by two Arena staff. One of them spoke to Ray in low tones to avoid letting the people nearby hear, and the agent nodded, expression a mixture of curiousity and anxiety.

The staff left them and they continued walking, The Hunter's questioning look only earning him a, "I'll tell you later" from Ray. Gradually they passed through the mass of people and reached the doors, going through them into blessed calm. The Hunter paused to shake hands with Meta-Knight before returning to Ray.

"Apparently the Director wants to see you." Ray's voice was level, but the Hunter could feel the nervousness emanating from his agent, "They didn't say why so don't ask." Ray gave the Hunter a look, "You didn't get into a fight outside the Arena, did you? They REALLY don't like it when that happens."

The Hunter shook his head, "No, I didn't. Are you supposed to take me to the Director then?" Ray nodded, still looking nervous, "Alright, lead on. Let's see what they want from me. Apart from gladiatorial spectacle." The bald agent gave him another look before rolling his eyes and leading the Hunter through the halls of the facility.

Soon the two of them stood before the door to the Director's offices. Ray looked at the Hunter, "You're on your own in there, Hunter. I'm not allowed in." He let out a nervous bark of laughter, "I'm not nearly important or dangerous enough to go in there." With a pat on the Hunter's back Ray turned to leave, "I'll go tell them your still 'unavailable' to interview."

The Hunter shook his head, "I may as well just get it over with, Ray. Just find someone who won't get too upset when I start dodging questions I don't like." Ray's face brightened immediately, "Consider this your birthday present." The Hunter said dryly, "I'm sure you'll enjoy it." The agent was beaming as he left, and the Hunter was sure the man would have been skipping were it appropriate there.

At last the Hunter turned and walked through the door and into what was more like a council room than an office. The room was large, circular, with raised seats surrounding most of the circumference. Facing the door he had just come through was an enclosed cubicle with a single pane of rippled glass in the front. Light came from the window, silhouetting a single figure that was yet more obscured by the warped pane.

A voice, somehow...modulated, came from the box, The Hunter couldn't tell if it was a man or woman behind the glass, and guessed that was on purpose. "Ah, Hunter. This conversation has been delayed too long. I am the Director, as I'm sure you've surmised." He nodded and the Director continued, "Please sit down. I don't like it when the people I'm talking to are standing for too long."

The Hunter glanced around and sat in a nearby chair. The Director waited until the Hunter seemed comfortable enough before speaking again, "There are several topics I wish to discuss with you, Hunter. You needn't answer any of my questions or even speak at all. However I would greatly appreciate your cooperation and input regarding the situation at hand."

The Hunter raised an eyebrow and leaned back somewhat, slightly raising the chairs front legs off the floor, "I'm not exactly all that quiet, Director. And before you mention those...what did Ray call them...paparazzi? I don't like being crowded. Or pestered." He noted that the indistinct figure behind the glass did not move as he spoke, and his brow creased slightly.

The reply came from the box, but the Hunter was no longer sure there was actually a person inside it, "So I've heard. Ray has mentioned your distaste for such in his interviews about you. Not that it stops them, of course." There was pause, then the Director continued, "Now for the reason we're here." The Hunter tensed slightly at the subtle shift in tone from polite small talk, to serious conversation, "Hunter, up to this point you have fought in fifteen separate matches, all against different opponents. With your win against Meta-Knight today your current win-loss record is 8-5-2. Eight wins, five losses, and two draws."

The Hunter let his chair resume it's original position as he listened, the Director's voice was coming from some kind of circular grille on the outside of the box, and he surmised it to be some for of speaker like those he had seen about the Arena. "This record, while...passable, is not what I or the investors expected from you here. In short, you've been disappointing to us." The Hunter's only response was to shift in the chair slightly, "With that in mind, I believe I've discovered the source of the issue."

"I don't believe you're properly motivated to win." The Hunter's brow creased once more, now in curiousity. Properly motivated? "As it stands now, the only reason you are here is due to the Arena's capability to allow you to practice suppressing your beasthood without a significant amount of time passing in your own world. As the Ambassador promised this to you, I cannot change that." A pause followed, as if the Director was gathering their thoughts, "What I can change is why you actually fight."

Leaning forward, the Hunter let his gaze cast about the room before focusing on the speaker again as the Director pushed on, "I have a few things to offer you, Hunter. And all are based upon your improved performance here. As I'm sure you are aware, the tournament which we hold every Earth year begins in less than a week. Now, you will obviously be participating in that tournament, along with continuing to perform in your scheduled spectacle fights."

The Hunter felt something akin to anxiety rising within himself as the Director spoke. What if he was forced to go back before he could properly control himself? "My first offer has to do with your general performance in any fight you participate in. Now, this is not conditional upon you being the victor, but rather how much the audience enjoys the fight in question." Another pause, then, "If you fight to a satisfactory degree, we are prepared to offer you a sum of money for each fight. These funds are yours to use as you wish. However, I would like to point out that any currency we provide here can be converted to wealth within your own world. Wealth you could use to restore Cainhurst."

That statement caused the Hunter to sit bolt upright, eyes widening. The Director did not stop speaking, however, "You could even use your funds to hire personnel from the Arena itself. Our ability to hire stretches across every world we have connections to, and there are a great many talented individuals and companies that could provide an almost limitless number of services. Construction and security I would put at the top of the list for your particular interests."

He was stunned, he had not even considered that such a thing might even be possible. The implications left his mind reeling. It would all depend on Annalise's permission, of course, he was not about to take any action regarding Cainhurst without her say. The Director appeared to be waiting for him to gather his thoughts, and after several minutes the Hunter nodded toward the box to indicate that he was ready for the Director to continue.

"Very good. The second point I wish to raise is the illness of one of your acquaintances in your world. One Arianna seems to-" The Hunter stood up so fast the chair toppled, his entire body tensed like a whip as his eyes fixed upon the lit window. The Director cleared their throat and continued, "As I was saying, she seems to have come down with a disease that is rendering her limbs useless. We have drawn several possible conclusions as to the nature of her affliction."

"As you know, we are quite effective at treating physical injuries of all kinds." The Hunter was so focused on what the Director was saying he didn't notice that his vice grip on Rakuyo's hilt was starting to cause welts to form on his palm. "If you win enough matches, we will provide a medication that will assist in her recovery. But only if you win, Hunter. With enough time here I'm sure you could rack up the necessary victories for a lifetime of medicine for her, but I do not believe you wish to spend quite so much time away from home."

The Hunter's hand twisted on the hilt, rubbing the skin raw. If Arianna was sick and he could help, nothing would stop him from doing whatever it took to cure her. The Director was silent for several moments as the Hunter thought on what they had said. Then they spoke again, "As for the last point, it has to do with the tournament itself."

Already close to being overwhelmed, the Hunter braced himself for what came next, "If you win, Hunter, I will personally see to it that you are given every assistance possible in either purging or controlling the beast blood." This final pronouncement hit the Hunter like a horse, his breath caught in his throat and he gaped at the windowed box from which the Director's voice emanated.

"If you at all interested in any of these offers, I expect to see much better performance from you. Do you have any questions for me?" The Hunter mutely shook his head, still speechless, "Very well, you may return to your daily pastimes. Good day, Hunter." With that the light behind the window flicked off and the door behind him opened.

He stood there, dumbstruck, for several minutes, before slowly making his way out of the room and down the halls. So distracted by what had just transpired was he, that he came close to walking into walls on a few occasions. At some point he found himself in the massive concourse that held the training arenas.

The Hunter's eyes swept over the various rings, then settled on an unoccupied one. He strode toward it, vague notions of the future and the possibilities therein flashing before his eyes. He activated the training rings console and flipped a few switches and turned it on. Three faux opponents appeared upon the stage, waiting for him. They didn't have to wait long. As the Rakuyo swept before him, blade glinting in the artificial light, he felt conviction burn inside him as it had when the Hunt had begun.

The Rakuyo struck true and the Hunter felt his entire being conform once again to its true purpose. Fire seared in his veins as he danced among the training images. The Hunt had come again, and he would see it's end. His green eyes flashed. _I am awake!_


	11. C10: Shadow Hunt

C10: Shadow Hunt

 _E'er o'er us She observes_

 _Her chosen on mortal soil_

 _And through us Her will preserves_

 _Her coming Dark, is our toil_

Yharnam was dead, its purpose corrupted and its populace scattered. Even the rats barely remained in the blood stained streets and alleys. No man, woman, or child dared remain in the accursed city, fleeing for lands beyond, where such troubles as theirs were largely unknown. Yet still something chose to stir the dead silence of those haunted buildings.

Hunting was unpleasant business, but necessary, and this one took that necessity to heart. Even as the city lay dead upon its foundations, one sought out any that remained and exterminated them with utter equanimity. Indeed, this one looked upon anything that moved as prey for the Hunt. The lone hunter strode across a bridge, corpses smoldering on either side.

A darkness formed before them, swirling and forming into something neither man nor beast. The last hunter of Yharnam drew their ax and watched as two pale eyes gleamed forth from the dark. Eyes that did not blink, eyes that possessed no pupils, eyes that made even this one feel fear. Then speech came from the dark and the lone hunter fell, consciousness violated by the unknowable words that coursed through them.

As the pale eyed dark spoke, the hunter began to change within. Where once a semblance of humanity had been, there now was only a cold and barren urge to serve the dark. The last hunter of Yharnam slowly rose, a rune now engraved upon their very soul. They knelt before the pale eyed shade and heard the will of She.

When the lone hunter stood at last, the shade had gone. But that was of little importance. Those who had disturbed the Dark Betwixt Stars remained yet living, and now a new Hunt must be undertaken. Ax in hand, the hunter of She Who Is strode forth, leaving Yharnam empty of life as the city expelled its last breath.

But they did not leave unseen. Another hunter, wearing the feathers of a crow, observed their departure from afar. The crow followed them unseen and unheard, out into the oncoming night. The hunting of hunters was a dreadful undertaking, but one the feather cloaked hunter performed without complaint.

-x-

The brackets were presented to every participant via mediums they were most used to. Those of a more medieval inclination received them on paper, while their futuristic counterparts viewed them upon various personal screens and displays. The first round consisted of no less than 28 fights, and was expected to take up the duration of a month to complete. Some matches seemed to already be cut and dried, the results apparent to any who cared to think about them for more than a moment. Others would likely take hours before a winner would emerge.

The Hunter was rather shaken to discover his match would be the first of many. The paper in his hands crinkled as his grip tightened. His opponent would probably be simple enough, he'd seen the diminutive spaceman, Olimar, about and had little doubts about his success. No, what truly concerned the Hunter was the ever present worry that his performance in the fight would be 'sub-par'. Even if the money was inconsequential, he wanted to give Cainhurst everything he could.

He glanced across the recreational hall in which most of the contestants were gathered. Most were reviewing the brackets and either joking about their matches, or had looks of concentration and worry that spoke to their dedication. Some few simply didn't seem to care, and one or two actually seemed afraid. The Hunter wondered at why those who seemed to prefer to avoid fighting were here at all. They must have something to gain from their participation, he surmised, but still. It was entirely possible that they were there merely for the entertainment of the investors. Combatants that served more as comic relief than any actual challenge.

Still, it did him no good to underestimate any of them. The Hunter cringed inwardly as he remembered the brief moments he had spent within the anomalous Kirby. That experience had left him scarred and shell-shocked long enough for the star child to blast him off the stage. If there was any fighter the Hunter was actually somewhat afraid of, it was that little pink ball. Fortunately Kirby was a good sort and didn't actually try to eat anyone else present outside the fights.

The armored form of Samus caught his attention as the bounty hunter walked within a few yards of him. Once again she had removed her helmet and her long pale hair flowed out behind her. Their eyes met and silent respect passed between them, one hunter to another, before she moved on to leave the recreation area. The Hunter glanced at the brackets, he was personally familiar with very few of the combatants, but he was still curious about their fights.

Samus would be challenged by none other than Captain Falcon in the first round, and that match promised to be either extremely short, or long and brutal. Both of them had experience, power, and durability, and he had the distinct feeling that their fight would be far more evenly matched than his own. Down the list the Hunter scanned, looking for the few other names he had some connection to.

There was Link's name, and the Hunter read that the green-clad swordsman would be facing the Dog and Duck that everyone just called Duck Hunt. With a sigh he shook his head, as random as their methods may be for selecting the match-ups, it seemed hardly fair. Link's victory seemed more solid than Samus', but the Hunter knew too little of the Dog to be completely certain.

Down the list was Palutena, her opponent – the red haired bladesman, Roy. The Hunter only knew Roy through what Marth had explained to him in one of their brief conversations, and he knew next to nothing about the goddess' capabilities. He thought about it for a moment and concluded he'd just have to see it, not that he was planning on missing any of the fights. Except for perhaps Kirby's, he didn't need more nightmares after all.

And then he saw Bayonetta's name and clenched his fist involuntarily. That woman was absolutely infuriating to him, and she knew exactly how insufferable she could be. But no matter how hard he tried to stay away from her, she always tracked him down to tease him again. He had no idea HOW she always managed to find him, even when he'd told no one else where he was going. And she had a terrible habit of appearing out of thin air with a sultry smile and more teasing words on her lips. The Hunter found himself partially wishing that the grey-skinned trainer would be able to bring the Umbra Witch down, but it was scant hope.

And finally he saw Marth's match-up, and shook his head. Another balanced match, it would seem. The prince would be fighting none other than Princess Zelda. It would be interesting to see how Link and Marth handled that particular advent inside the bounds of friendship they had. Glancing across the room he saw Link jokingly push Marth, who looked slightly perturbed. Zelda was giving the two of them an exasperated look. It seemed like the three of them were quite alright with the whole thing.

A quick scan of the bracket didn't turn up any more fights he was overly concerned with, so he pocketed the crumpled paper and stood from where he had been sitting. An unhappy squeak came from the small creature that had been half asleep in his lap. It was named Pichu, and was apparently also a contestant within the Arena, though the Hunter found that somewhat ridiculous. Still, the little creature seemed happy enough about it, and he watched as Pichu stretched, then scampered off to find another lap.

The Hunter considered the path before him, and sighed. He wanted nothing more than to go back to Cainhurst and embrace Arianna until the day he died. But that fate was not available to him at present, and he would have to fight a lot of battles if he was going to ensure that the blonde woman who had so claimed his heart was going to be safe and well. That sense of conviction arose within him once again, strengthening his resolve.

There was a week before the tournament began, and all seven of those days was going to see the Hunter doing everything he could to secure a stable future for his Arianna. From the interviews Ray had arranged, to the multi fighter battles, and even fighting in the training rings, the Hunter would not allow himself to relent from his goals.

And then his nose caught the scent of Bayonetta and he groaned inwardly. Every time she approached him his body began sending mixed messages to his brain. His devotion to Arianna was strong enough to keep him faithful, but he had absolutely no desire to test the limits of that. With a sense of resignation he walked on, waiting for the witch to waylay him.

She did not, and instead the Hunter turned a corner to see her waiting for him. She had a look in her eyes that he did not at all like. It was almost...cold, distant, and somehow inhuman. He had a distinct feeling that he should get away from her as quickly as he could, but before he could take a step a wall of black hair cut off the way behind him.

He tensed, watching her warily. The witch stood still, only her eyes moving to follow him as he shifted. The Hunter sensed the hair reaching out before it could grasp him, and he quickened away from the spot as the loop of strands cinched down upon where he had been. Something was most certainly off, and he had no idea what it was.

A strained word came from the Umbra Witch then, and he looked at her to see blood dripping from her nose. Her voice came out as a struggling gasp, as if she was fighting to speak, "H-hunter." To his incredulity her own hair began to turn on her as she fought to speak further, "Help me..!" Black strands wrapped about her throat and the Hunter lunged forward, cutting at them in an attempt to free her from being strangled.

Once the Hunter was closer, however, he could see...something, in Bayonetta's eyes. It looked almost like something had been engraved within them, something that looked chillingly like a rune. The Hunter acted on instinct and opened his Insight. What confronted him then almost caused his heart to stop. Coiled around and within the struggling witch was a pale eyed shade. Those dreadful eyes looked into his and he once again heard that awful voice within and without.

But this time was different somehow, and the force of the shade's speech was dulled as it reached him. With unerring decisiveness the Hunter grasped the darkness with one hand and cut at it with the Rakuyo held in his right. By some miracle he actually cut it, and a howl ripped through his mind, sending him to the brink of frenzied madness. Then the pale eyes shut and the darkness faded.

Both Hunter and Umbra Witch stayed where they were, breathing heavily. It took several moments for the Hunter to realize he was straddling Bayonetta's waist and he quickly stood, trying not to meet her eyes. He did not quite succeed, and he caught the look within her gaze, a look of gratitude mixed with an invitation to come back and be closer that he had been moments ago.

He hesitantly reached out to help Bayonetta to her feet and she took his hand. He pulled her up and tried to let go, but she held him there. The Hunter looked at her, trying to hide his apprehension behind a mask of curiousity. She spoke then, and he could hear in her voice a serious tone he knew better than to ignore, "You know what that ugly thing was, don't you?" Her eyes bored into him.

The Hunter tried to dodge around the issue with a noncommittal shrug, but she would not have it and her grip on his wrist tightened. Finally he gave in and shook his head, "It was a piece of...that...thing we both saw. A piece of Her." She nodded, her expression grim. Then she released his arm and her gaze softened.

She half smiled and touched his face, "It's a real pity. I'd have loved to get to know you better." She grinned at his confusion, "Oh don't worry, love. I just had a quick peek into your memories when you were getting that ugly little shade off my back." Bayonetta tossed her head and smirked, "After all, there's very few people I let ride on me." The emphasis she put on the word ride made the Hunter turn slightly red. She kissed him on the cheek before sauntering off.

Before she left however she said, "Calahan?" The Hunter started slightly, then turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised. But the witch just smiled and winked at him, "Thought so." With that last cryptic remark she swept around a corner and down the hall, leaving a confused Hunter behind.


	12. C11: Moonrise

C11: Moonrise

" _So everything is finally underway, with only days to spare. This happens every year, and I hate it."_

" _ **You could always retire, Director. You have more than earned your desired price.**_ _"_

" _And let some idiot do this? No, it's better if I handle it myself for a few more years. Who knows, maybe we'll find another administrator capable of dealing with demigods."_

" _ **As you say, Director. Shall I prepare your balcony in the Grand Colosseum?**_ _"_

" _Prepare it day in advance? Why not. That's less ridiculous than most of the nonsense we get here."_

The Hunter was on edge, he could see the insufferable host on the stage. He could see the lights and recording devices called cameras. He could see, hear, and smell the crowd beyond. There were definitely a plethora of second thoughts running through his mind. Was Ray insane? Putting him out there was quite possibly the worst idea his agent had ever had since they'd met. It wasn't up to debate at this point, he was committed now, and he had to do this to get funding for restoring Cainhurst.

Then came the dreaded cue, a resounding fanfare that signaled him to stride onto that stage with all the confidence and straight backed stoicism he could muster. And so he did, or at least he TRIED to, he was never quite sure if he managed it very well. But he made it to the plushly cushioned seat beside the desk the host sat behind.

His eyes swept over the crowd of people and he felt the urge to run very far, very fast, rose up within himself. He sat back in the chair, attempting to somehow lounge and give off the air of someone far more relaxed. The host was speaking to him, "..and I have to say its a pleasure to finally have you with us!" The Hunter nodded, inclining his head in some gesture of acceptance and gratitude. "Strong and silent? Or am I talking too much? Its a problem I have sometimes I'll admit. So tell us about yourself, Hunter!"

A deep breath and a moment to recall the studied answers Ray had helped him rehearse gave the Hunter enough to forge ahead, voice more confident than he felt, "Well I'm sure there's plenty I could tell you, but I see children out there so lets spare them the gory bits eh?" Ray had painstakingly led the Hunter through the amicable and slightly humorous tone that he thought his client would need here, and now that was paying off.

The host scoffed and tossed their head towards a camera, obviously showboating for the audience, "You have to give us more than THAT! Actually, all that answer is does make me want to know more! Come on, Hunter, don't tease us!" The Hunter was amazed at how well Ray had predicted the interview. He felt like giving the bald agent a bit more gratitude after this.

The Hunter shrugged and removed his hat, then ran a hand through his mop of untidy hair. Yet another of the little nuances Ray had forced him to practice, "If you insist, I guess I could tell you. But I DID warn you." He adorned a wry smile, "You don't get called "hunter" for no reason. In Yharnam, the city I come from, its my responsibility to hunt beasts. I'm going to recommend you don't ask about the beasts themselves, otherwise you'll have angry mothers from all over the place calling you."

"And we certainly don't want that! Angry parents scare me more than vampires do!" The audience laughed appreciatively, though the Hunter saw a few who remained unamused or bored. It would come down to how much he was willing to tell, just like Ray had said. The host continued, "So, what was life like in Yawnam?"

He suppressed a sigh at the poor joke, "Yharnam. And I don't suggest going there on vacation unless you have a death wish. The beasts I hunt were, and in some ways are, people." There was a gasp from the crowd, "As far as I know, only a few places in my world were affected by the Beast Blood. But those that were, don't have many humans left." He sighed, façade cracking somewhat as he remembered Gascoigne, "I saved what few I could, and I gave them a safe place to live."

His host took hold of the opportunity to lead away from the bleak subject of humans becoming monsters and asked, "You saved people? Why don't you tell us about them and your other friends! I'm sure you weren't all alone out there!" The Hunter noticed a few staff in the wings relax, and smiled slightly. The host noticed, "Is that a smile I see? Do you have someone special back home?"

A wave of tension went through him at the question as he saw Arianna in his mind's eye yet again. He'd slipped, and now he was going to have to bite the bullet and tell these people about her, as much as he didn't want to, "Well, yes, I do." The look in the host's face told him to be more detailed, so he pushed on, "During one night of the Hunt, I was in a particular district of Yharnam, hunting beasts as was usual. And I saw an incense lantern which citizens would use to keep beasts from breaking down their doors..." The Hunter began to despair, it had only been five minutes but it was feeling like hours.

With a sigh of relief he left the stage and collapsed into a chair in the "green room" which had no sign of green within it, but the Hunter had given up on understanding all the strange nuances and slang in regards to this form of media. He was, however, very appreciative of all the little conveniences provided. After about five minutes Ray came in, beaming at him.

"That was great!" The Hunter raised a skeptical eyebrow as Ray kept talking, "I know you hated the whole thing, but I could hardly have asked for better!"

"Ray."

"I mean, you didn't even blow up on them ONCE!"

"Ray I-"

"And that story about Arianna! Oh stars you nearly broke my heart!"

"RAY"

The agent finally seemed to calm down slight, "Erm, sorry. Go ahead Hunter." The bald man tried to look contrite, but the Hunter could clearly see his jubilation was undiminished.

The Hunter laughed, feeling somewhat foolish now, "What would I do without you? I'm sure those vultures would have picked me clean of information by now if you weren't fending them off for me." Truth be told, that wasn't too far off the mark. The Hunter had been plagued by desperate interviewers and photographers ever since he'd arrived, and if it hadn't been for Ray's intervention he would have likely taken to hiding in his room whenever he could.

Ray laughed exuberantly, "Vultures? Well I suppose they are in a way! Scavenging around for any bits of drama or intrigue they can." He clapped the Hunter on the shoulder, "We're a good team, yes sir! You do all that fighting, and I take care of all the PR! It's absolutely perfect."

"I'm so glad you aren't one of them. I'm not sure I could avoid an interview with you if I died." The Hunter spoke wryly and both men laughed. In point of fact, Ray had done far more for the Hunter than probably either realized. Prolonged company with the bald agent had forced the Cainhurst kin to be more sociable than he'd ever been before, and he was gradually adjusting to the presence of other people.

Before the Arena, the only laughter the Hunter had experienced was largely that of relief, not of any actual amusement. It had been a result of finally being able to rest after a long night in the Hunt, or after the slaying of a particularly horrid beast. But now he was starting to feel human at long last, all thanks to his dealings with Ray and those few contestants he had become entwined with. But his troubles were far from over, issues great and small still plagued him. A rather immediate one was his fight.

-x-

The Hunter looked out at the Arena and took a deep breath. Day one of this tournament and he was already starting to have doubts. Worrying about the possibility of more interference from those shades certainly didn't help. But he was determined to follow through with this and fight for the best possible future for Arianna. Nothing was going to stop him from at least obtaining that medicine for her. With renewed resolve he strode out onto the stage to a cacophony of cheers and cries from the surrounding stands. He raised a hand to the crowds, just as Ray had recommended, and was somewhat pleased to hear their nigh deafening response.

Across from him, at the other end of the island, was the diminutive Olimar, who seemed somewhat bemused by the current situation. The little spaceman waved a little bit to the Hunter, presumably as a show of sportsmanship, But both of them knew what was about to happen, and neither of them took much pleasure in that idea. The Hunter returned the wave by tilting his head and the two of them stood, watching each other as they waited for the inevitable countdown.

The booming voice of one of the announcers echoed out over the Arena, " **GET READY TO SMASH!** " The Hunter tensed, hand gripping Rakuyo's hilt. His opponent seemed to be waiting for... something. But he had no way of knowing what. " **3, 2, 1... FIGHT!** " In that instant the Hunter quickened forward and lunged at Olimar, the tip of his blade flashing in the light.

A small, vividly colored creature appeared before him and deflected the blow from Olimar, sacrificing itself in a puff of blue smoke. The Hunter rolled and resumed his ready stance, reassessing the situation. The spaceman had called forth several more of the tiny aliens and was watching him with an expression of apprehension. While the two of them had never fought before, the difference in speed alone was enough to give the Hunter an edge. But he wasn't about to get complacent and let his opponent surprise him with those little allies.

The Hunter started circling his small foe like a wolf would circle it's prey, eyes fixed upon his target, body tensed to strike at any instant. Olimar turned to keep him in view, definitely not wanting to let the deadly warrior get behind him. Slowly, carefully, the Hunter approached, Rakuyo's point tracing small circles in the air before him, Evelyn secure in his off hand. Then he struck, like a lunging snake the Hunter's arm lashed out, slicing diagonally down toward Olimar's head.

As he had expected, the small, brightly hued creatures leapt to the spaceman's defense, slowing the Hunter's blade enough to allow their summoner to avoid the blow. Unlike the first time, however, the slayer of beasts whipped his arm around to follow up with a second brutal slash. Olimar had no time to summon more allies, and the few he had left were destroyed defending him. Evelyn came up and fired, the quicksilver bullet striking the little man's helmet and sending him reeling back.

Without hesitation the green eyed hunter pounced, dividing the Rakuyo into its dual bladed form, and stabbed forth. The blow landed true, and the receiver of it was sent rolling to the far edge of the stage, stopping only inches away from falling off. The Hunter pursued, intending to finish the fight then and there, but stopped when the Arena's lights suddenly dimmed and a brightly glowing orb appeared between the two combatants.

The Hunter had not yet managed to obtain one of these, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. However, he put his uncertainty aside for practicality. He had to shatter that orb before Olimar could, if only to deny his opponent the advantage it would give. His blade crashed into the floating sphere, breaking it apart and drawing the whirling energies into the Hunter.

He felt... strange, almost light, like he no longer possessed any weight whatsoever. Power surged through his body and the world around him seemed to slow down as his adrenaline peaked. His eyes fell on Olimar and he felt the energies he had absorbed surge and push forward. He no longer held the Rakuyo, and above him hung a brightly shining moon. His eyes locked on Olimar's, who now seemed paralyzed by the Hunter's gaze. With slow and deliberate steps he strode forward, then raised the scythe. It came down with a sound like the cold wind of death and Olimar was sent crashing into the Arena wall.

Those who watched from without saw more change than the Hunter himself realized. They watched as the Arena grew dim, only for silvery moonlight to cascade down and illuminate the scene. Upon the stage where the Hunter had stood, there now seemed to be a completely different person. This man, back bent as he leaned upon the hand of his scythe, his body covered with clothes made ragged with age, moved with a slow and deliberate pace completely different from the Hunter's normal gait. Then came that slash, like the cut of the Reaper harvesting a soul it smote the immobilized Olimar.

Then the moonlight faded and normal light returned, the Hunter once more stood upon the stage, looking up at the stands surrounding him, puzzled by the stunned silence. Then he was bombarded by a barrage of sound, cheering, yelling, clapping, and much more all blended into a single roar that he could almost _feel_. Still somewhat bemused he left the stage and entered the post-match room.

He looked at his hands, remembering the sensation of all that power flowing through him. It had been exhilarating, almost intoxicating. Part of him wished that the feeling had been allowed to continue for much longer, but the rest of him knew that was a bad idea. Flexing his fingers a few times the Hunter then put away his weapons and brushed off his long coat, he'd best get a move on. He heard the door open and glanced back, expecting to see Ray.

Ray was there alright, but so was... Bayonetta? The Hunter held back a groan and turned to face them, trying to keep his expression somewhat pleasant. As he faced them he noted the peculiar glint in the Umbra Witch's eyes that usually meant she was planning something. "Well Ray, how'd I do? Do you think that was dramatic enough for the Director?"

The agent smiled broadly, "Hunter, you knocked 'em dead out there! Heck, you even stunned Ambrose - Samus' agent, I think I've mentioned him before; and that man is the definition of "unflappable"." Ray rubbed his hands together, "It was all because of that smash attack at the end!" The man was positively beaming at the Hunter, "Incredible, absolutely incredible!"

Bayonetta laughed, low and sultry, "Oh yes, he's very impressive." She winked at the Hunter, "Would you like to see what your last attack looked like when you eliminated poor Olimar?" Something in her tone made him uneasy, but he nodded slowly, his curiousity getting the better of him in this regard. How bad could it be? So he allowed the sensual Umbra Witch to hand him a screen of some sort.

Upon the glowing tablet was a still image of him, glowing with the familiar light of the orb's energies. He frowned slightly, unsure if this was all that she wished to show him, and if Bayonetta was simply trying to get him off balance enough to seduce him. Hesitantly he tapped the glowing surface and the image sprang to life, sound coming from the object. He sighed at his own idiocy, of course, he should have know it would be one of those video things.

The Hunter watched as the playback continued, but the second he saw what was standing in his place as the moon rose, he threw the tablet away from himself and scrambled toward the wall. His breathing fast and heavy, his eyes wide and panicked as he stared where the broken screen lay upon the floor. Pain seeped into his sense of reality as his fingernails dragged along the solid surface he rested against.

Ray tried to calm the Hunter down, but there was no reaching him as he was flung back through his memories to the last night of the Hunt. Gehrman rose before him, scythe held high, cloak flapping in the wind of the Dream as they faced each other across the field of white flowers and gravestones. In the present the Hunter lay upon the floor, every muscle tense, his eyes fixed on the ceiling but not seeing it.

In his own mind the Hunter was being brutally and savagely assaulted by a man he had regarded with respect, and even some veneration. The huge scythe cut and hacked at him viciously as the Hunter tried to keep his distance from Gehrman, tried to think of some sort of plan. But in the end, the old hunter had forced him into a corner, and instinct took over.

He could remember every sensation as he launched himself at the old man, getting inside his enemy's guard and tearing at him like an animal. Stabs and slashes were as frequently used in his attack as punches, kicks, and even bites. He could see Gehrman weakening, watched the pain and fear flicker across the man's face. But also... relief? But he had been far past caring, and had simply torn the host of the Dream to bloody pieces. Then he fell to his knees and howled, either with insane laughter or agony he couldn't tell. Maybe both. He howled and howled and kept on going until...

The Hunter jerked back to the real world, still on the floor. His entire body ached and he slowly worked several cramps out his muscles, groaning. He didn't know when he'd closed his eyes, but when he opened them he saw Arena medical personnel above him. He tried to talk, but his jaw had been tense for so long that it hurt to move, just like everything else. There was a small sting in his upper left arm and he felt a strange sensation sweep through him. All of his muscles seemed to lose tension on their own, and his mind clouded over. As the Hunter's eyelids fluttered with the effort he was expending to keep them open, he once more tried to communicate. All that came out was groan at the tearing pain in his aching throat. Had he been screaming?

As the sedatives took hold the Hunter was lifted onto a stretcher and discretely borne away to a place where he could recuperate. He thought he saw someone familiar above him and struggled to focus. But all he could see was a pair of haunting eyes, grey as storm clouds. Strangely, seeing them comforted him, and he allowed himself to slip away into unconsciousness.


	13. C12: Force of Will

C12: Force of Will

" _And you have no idea where these... things, are coming from?"_

" _ **Our best guess is somewhere out in space, farther than any of our instruments can detect.**_ _"_

" _Retirement is starting to look more and more attractive. Is there any way for us to know who is being influenced by this?"_

" _ **We have some ideas, but our most reliable method is to have the Hunter look at any subjects with his Insight.**_ _"_

" _Well get something better, I'm not about to derail this tournament after I put so much work into it."_

Arturo stood over the body of the hunter he had followed from Yharnam. They had not been the one he sought, but there had definitely been something inhuman about them. The way they fought was far too cold, too calculating, it was unlike anything he had seen or heard of. He tossed a lit torch onto the corpse and watched the flames slowly begin to consume the oil coated remains.

The more he thought about the fight, the stranger it seemed. His prey had not made even a single sound, even while dying. No grunts of pain or effort, not even a gasp when kicked in the gut. Everything about this encounter had been off, from start to finish nothing had gone as he had expected. Some deep seated intuition told him that the Hunter of Cainhurst was somehow involved, though he had no idea in what way.

The flames grew in intensity and size as they consumed the body upon the bloodied ground, and Arturo watched them impassively, considering. The trail of the Cainhurst Hunter had led him far indeed, to an abandoned fishing village and the shore beyond. He had found an abandoned hovel there, but the one who had dwelt within it was long gone. It took every bit of ability Arturo had possessed to follow the Hunter back to Yharnam, but the trail had ended abruptly outside a small chapel. And his extended search afterward had led him to this hunter.

Ashes started to swirl and blow away upon the light breeze as the corpse began to deteriorate in earnest. Idly the hunter of hunters watched the small particles drift away. He had no more trail or signs to follow now. Mulling the situation over he toyed with the hilt of the Blades of Mercy he had found upon Eileen's grave. He had the distinct feeling he was hunting more than just one man.

-x-

The Hunter looked about himself, the barren grey landscape around him somehow familiar. The scent of smoke played at his nose and he could see particles of ash floating by. Something had been burned here, but nothing was left to tell what had stood here before. The contours of the land itself... It tugged at his memory in a tantalizing fashion. He turned and saw the twisted remains of a great tree smoldering not far away. Slowly his foot moved forward, to take a step toward the husk, then the ash beneath him gave way and he fell into darkness.

He landed upon the ash again, flat on his back, staring up at the featureless black sky. No clouds covered it, no stars shone, no moon hung like an all seeing silver eye. And yet he could still see, light pervaded his surroundings, colorless light that seemed to come from all around, leaving no shadows. Standing up, the Hunter looked about himself once more. The land about seemed hotter, as if the flames were returning to burn him away as well.

Something hard met his fingers and he looked down to see something white amongst the grey ash, idly he swept his hand over it and revealed a smooth mask, featureless save two holes for eyes. Picking the mask up, the Hunter felt almost as if he had lived this before, this all felt so familiar, but he had no memory of anything even close to this. Idly turning the object over he saw that the back was lined with a dozen burned out eyes. Only one remained open, piercing green in color, and it stared at him.

 _"_ _HUNTER"_

-x-

He opened his eyes to the blaring of multiple machines and the hurried discussion of staff. A feeling of lethargic panic was seeping throughout his body, and the simultaneous urges to both sleep and jump up with a weapon warred within him. Animalistic fear and his numbed mind kept any consistent thought from forming inside the Hunter's mind as the people about him rushed around, doing things that either shut the machines up or made them make different noises entirely.

Light flashed in each of his eyes and cold metal touched his chest. It was too much, he had to either run or shut down. His befuddled mind decided to try the first option, muscle memory led his hand to where a Bold Hunter's Mark would have been on his belt. There were none, and his panic increased, adrenaline burning away the mind fogging sedatives that they had injected him with.

The Hunter rolled out of the bed, dragging tubes and cables with him and sending multiple apparatus crashing to the ground. Someone tried to grab him, but he was running on instinct, instinct that didn't account for the possibility of friends. His elbow jabbed into the perceived assailant's rib-cage with all the force he could muster, which was not much, but enough to get them off. Tearing needles from his flesh and grasping at a metal rod to use for defense, he backed away from the rest of them.

Mind whirling as his body fought both panic and sedatives, the Hunter broke the metal stand in two, smaller piece in his right hand, larger in his left. His muscles took on the familiar stance of the fight, his eyes jumping from person to person. Something clicked inside him then and he lowered the broken IV stand. These were people, not beasts. Slowly he regained himself and shook his head in shame. Casting the broken bits of metal aside, the Hunter leaned against the wall and sank to the floor, head in his hands.

His nails dug into the skin upon his brow, eyes shut tight as his body shook. The thought that he could have killed these people tore at him from within. What good was controlling the beasthood when he was already just as ready to slaughter innocents as a blood crazed monster? The muscles in his arms and chest constricted as he resisted that thought. He was better than a beast, he had not killed any of them, he was still human. The Hunter fought to regain some semblance of self control.

After what felt like an eternity, the Hunter raise his head and looked about the room. It was empty of anyone else, and he wondered if he could have hallucinated them. That thought was not at all encouraging, but the possibility was there. With a groan he stood and haltingly began to walk, his whole body was stiff after having been tensed for so long. Cold air touched his skin and he looked down at himself. He appeared to be dressed in some kind of flimsy robe, and judging by the chill, it was open at the back.

The door to the room opened then and a nervous looking staff member entered. The man swallowed hard when he saw the Hunter, who somehow still looked terrifying in the simple patient's gown. Without speaking the nurse set the Hunter's clothes upon the bed and quickly left. With a sigh the Hunter donned his clothes, yet another reminder of the Nightmares he had seen. He turned the hat over in his hands, remembering how he had killed Maria.

-x-

Many hours later he was back in his rooms, watching the latest tournament match. He had only been unconscious for 12 hours or so, and the notion that any sedative or medicine could cause him to remain asleep for that long somehow unnerved him. The match went on, Samus darting around Captain Falcon after having discarded her armor through some means. Both fighters looked tired, but he couldn't tell, these screens were poor substitutes for actually being there.

His jaw tensed as he remembered seeing himself taking on Gerhman's visage. He had no idea how or why that had happened, but he was determined it would never occur again. On the screen, Samus kicked Captain Falcon in the back of the neck and the poor man fell limp. That was game over for the captain, and Samus easily pushed the prone man off the edge of the stage. The telltale flash of light signified his loss, and the Hunter turned the screen off.

Three matches down now. And so far he, Fox, and Samus were progressing to the next round. Another fight would take place in eight hours or so, with a spectacle match between two of the losers preceding it by a few hours. He knew he should pay more attention to the other combatants, but he just couldn't focus on anything, every time he tried that dream came back to him. The details, such as they were, had slipped away from him. But what stuck was the memory of those eyes.

Restlessness surged within him and he stood, pacing about his room. He didn't want to stay here, but he didn't know where else to go within this Arena. If only he could just see Arianna, hear her voice. She would be able to calm him down, she of all people would be able to help. He stopped pacing, looking at the wooden figurine of her that he had carved. The Ambassador had promised he would be able to return whenever he wished.

An ache grew inside him, he yearned so badly to return to her. But could he leave again if he did? He needed to fight here in order to get the medicine for her, and she wouldn't know that he had been away longer than a few more moments if what the Director had told him was true. He could do it, he could go back to her, he could go to her and hold her and let her heal him inside.

Still the Hunter hesitated, would she be safe if he did return? If what had happened mere hours ago was any indication, he was still dangerous. He wanted to scream in frustration at his own indecision. Lashing out with one hand he cracked the tiled wall beside him, sending several small ceramic pieces to the floor. He had to win this tournament and be cured of his beast blood.

Conviction unlike any he'd had before blazed within the Hunter's heart. He would win, no matter what he had to do. If he must take on Gerhman's appearance and wield the Burial Blade, he would. If he had to fight like a demon, he would. The Hunter of Yharnam, Kin of Cainhurst, and Slayer of Nightmares was going to win this tournament and nothing was going to stop him. A grim smile appeared on his face and he stood straight. His opponents had no idea what they were in for, he almost felt bad for them. Almost, but not quite.

I know this is kind of a filler chapter, but the details presented here felt necessary, and I couldn't fit them in the next chapter or the one prior. Don't forget to review, feedback and constructive criticism are not only appreciated, but they will help me produce chapters more often. Thank you for reading, and may your hunts go well.


	14. C13: Berserk

C13: Berserk

" _We're back to square one with him, aren't we?"_

" _ **Actually, Director, it appears that the Hunter is more motivated now.**_ _"_

" _I'm sure there's an explanation for that. But I don't particularly care so long as he fights."_

" _ **He may fight harder than you want him to, Director.**_ _"_

" _I hope he tries."_

The Hunter gripped the nape of the hardlight doll's neck, whirling around and throwing it so hard it crashed into the training arena wall. In the same motion he used that momentum to eviscerate another doll from shoulder to hip, causing it to shatter into a million iridescent shards. He felt the air behind him shifting as a third doll bore down upon his back. Instead of jumping to the side or rolling away, however, The Hunter used the art of Quickening to vanish and reappear behind the attacker, following that up with a brutal backstab.

He had spent two days like this already, renewing every instinct, every muscle's memory, that he had from the hunt. As time had progressed he had pulled out of the rut that he had not even known was dragging him down. The Hunter saw now that his forced solitude, followed by the lack of any real goal, had only served to weaken him almost to the point he'd been at when he had first awakened in Yharnam.

Now? He felt invigorated, these dolls did not provide the same moral barriers as the beasts had done, and that freed him to fight as he had against the Great Ones. Seven more dolls phased in before, behind, and above the Hunter, all of them taking up different stances and methods of attack. Blood burning with fervor and adrenaline, the Hunter once again began to war with the hardlight constructs, dodging, striking, one could almost say dancing, as one by one they all were eradicated by his merciless efficacy.

At times he felt the gaze of others upon him, sensed their presence as he would a fellow hunter's, but he paid them little heed as he pushed himself even harder. Arianna needed him to win, and he needed to win for her. Every bone in the Hunter's body cried out for rest, but his soul screamed yet louder for her. Then the dolls were gone, the lights of the stage shutting down. Had it already been four hours? It seemed so, and the training arena descended to its original position in the floor.

The Hunter stepped off the slightly raised platform and breathed deep, every sense was at its peak when he fought, and that thrill was hard to abandon. So it was that moments passed before the urge to fight on was repressed. He was no fool, reckless and wild yes, but not quite foolish. The Hunter was more than aware of the toll he was placing upon his body with this training, and it would do him little good to tear his muscles over and over again. No matter how good the healing here was, that would still eat away at the precious little time he had.

So he had created his own regimen to restore his prowess. Wake, eat, train, shower, hydrate, train, shower, eat, sleep, repeat. Simple, but effective, unlike most things had been for him thus far. It was liberating to be able to focus on one thing and one thing only, without distraction or question. The Hunt had been so complex and unrelenting, driving at him from within and without, leaving little time for aught but brutal fighting amongst the streets. Now that the Hunter was getting the hang of the Arena, it was beginning to feel almost like a vacation.

Casting clothing aside to be cleansed in one of the receptacles of the showers, the Hunter activated one of the shower levers for the coldest water it would give him. It had taken him a very long time to figure these contraptions out, for they bore no similarity to the machinations of Byrgenwerth or any other places he had been. But after fiddling with the one in the personal rooms provided, he had managed to familiarize himself with their workings. Now he stood beneath the icy torrent, feeling his skin tighten and his body shudder as the cold refreshed him.

Moments later he shut the water off and hit a pressure pad upon the wall to fill the cubicle with hot steam. This had confused him when he'd first found it, but upon speaking with the other fighters, he had discovered its use. Now the Hunter sat, relaxing and allowing his body to cleanse and renew itself after the hours of combat. Muscles and skin relaxed, and now he half meditated, resting his back against the wall. He almost felt peaceful, but as was its wont, his mind dredged up memories of the Hunt, replaying those horrific nights over again.

Every day was like this now, ever since he had seen himself become...Gehrman, the memories of his hunt had risen every time he had a quiet moment. The Hunter stood and finished his physical cleansing, but feeling as if his soul was sullied yet further by the visions of the Pthumerian labyrinths. Donning his now clean garb, he left to wander the hallways in an attempt to banish the recollections. His booted feet carried him from place to place, while his thoughts railed to escape from the cesspits of his memories.

Eventually he arrived at the doors to the courtyard that surrounded the Arena. Judging by the noise without, yet another massive crowd had gathered to ooh and aah over a pair of fighters. He tried to recall who it was that fought, but his thoughts were scattered by the remembrance of the Orphan's shriek. Swearing under his breath the Hunter turned to walk away, but stopped when he saw the small armored form of Meta-Knight watching him. The two of them regarded each other in silence before the smaller swordsman twitched one wing.

That was all the warning the Hunter got before Meta-Knight's yellow blade lashed out at his neck. It was enough, however, and he managed to avoid the blow by slipping under it. The Hunter turned then, Rakuyo in hand, but the star warrior was once again simply watching him, as if he had never moved at all. Without a sound the caped swordsman turned and left, leaving the Hunter somewhat confused.

-x-

The day was over, and the Hunter sat in the center of the gardens once again, brooding over his persistent memories. The most frustrating part was the way they came at him without any context or order, they were simply scattered and fleeting. It was disconcerting as well, mostly due to how vivid every recollection was. At times it felt like he was no longer even in the Arena, and he instead stood before one of the many monstrosities he had killed. From the Cleric Beast to the Pthumerian Queen, it all felt like he was living the Hunt over again.

The Hunter felt like howling into the silence, something about all of this was driving him up the wall. He had to DO something, but he did not know what, and that infuriated him all the more. The desire to dive back into that training arena and fight until he passed out came to him, followed by the urge to leave this place and go back to Cainhurst and his grey eyed Arianna. More wants came forth, each just as compelling to him as any other, but none of them caused him to shift from his seat. At some point he began to almost rock forward and back, breathing harsh and shallow as he tried to get a handle on the chaotic mess that was his mind and memories.

A whisper of something came from the shadows under the trees, and the Hunter looked up sharply to see a tall, gangly figure wielding two sickles. Its body trailed dark tendrils and its eyes glowed red as it approached him. The Hunter snarled and drew Ludwig's Holy Blade, the massive greatsword arcing down and crashing into the Mad One as the whistle of a bullet shrieked past his head. The shadowy beast sailed through the air to slam into a twisted and ruined tree as the Hunter turned his attention to the corrupted villager who had fired upon him.

Then he stepped forward and fell face first onto the soft grass of the garden, his eyes shut tight, fists clutching at the turf. The Hunter trembled with fear and adrenaline, his entire body shaking as he fought to regain control of himself. Tears came forth, born from the sheer emotional hurricane that racked his body and soul. Minutes passed with agonizing slowness as the Hunter underwent his silent internal struggle. A hand brushed against his shoulder, and the voice of Palutena came to him, he could not make out the words, but the intent was clear.

He forced himself to look at the goddess, barely noticing that he had curled into a ball upon the ground. She looked down at him with great concern and spoke again, this time he was able to discern what she was saying. "Hunter? What is the matter? I heard you cry out and found you here." The Goddess of Light looked upon him with concern and worry, her green eyes searching his face. The Hunter groaned and tried to sit up, feeling sore all over, and she helped him reach an upright position.

As he tried to speak, the Hunter discovered that his throat felt raw, and he guessed that it had been him who had screamed and gained Palutena's attention. Slowly but surely he explained to her what had occurred, albeit in a whisper to avoid further agitating his throat. The expression on her face turned to a mix of sorrow, mercy, and understanding. To her credit, however, she did not simply allow him to go off alone.

"You must seek help, Hunter. For even as before I can hear that which you do not say." Before he could protest she cut him off, "Do not seek to dissuade my concern, Hunter. I have experience with what is occurring within you. Many here, and even in my own realm, have suffered from similar." The Hunter looked at her in shock, "Yes, there are those with pasts as haunted as yours. No one of them shares in what you did, but many share in the torment. I believe you are familiar with several of them, Link and Samus being the two you know best."

He rasped a reply, "Claiming that I know Samus is more than a stretch, Palutena."

"Do not belittle my efforts on you behalf with unseemly jest, Hunter." She frowned at him and he looked away, abashed, "Seek them out and ask them for aid. Samus especially will be aware of what you have undergone. The huntress...still has difficulty with things she has done in her own world. I believe she comes here as an escape." Palutena then lifted him to his feet, "Do as you will, Hunter. But for the sake of your Arianna, seek help." She then touched two fingers to his brow, and left.

-x-

The Hunter watched the other fighters in the recreation area, his baleful eyes not really seeing them, but merely observing as he wrestled with himself for some idea of how to proceed. Palutena was right, of course, he needed to overcome this if he was to be of any use to Arianna at all. But still, going over his memories with anyone at all seemed far more difficult than it had initially sounded. He had come here with the intention of asking those few he was at least familiar with for help, but even though the healing field had restored his throat, his voice felt stuck. How could he possibly burden any of them with this.

An all too familiar scent drifted to him through the air and he groaned inwardly. He glanced to the left and saw that Bayonetta was indeed nearby, and she was moving toward him. The Hunter braced for what was likely to be another trying encounter as the Umbra Witch stood before him, skintight garb more revealing than not, as always. She took the lollipop she always seemed to have from her mouth and looked down at him with a raised eyebrow, "Another one? What am I going to do with you? Aside from the obvious." A wicked smirk crossed her face.

"I can't imagine being less in the mood for whatever it is you're trying to do, Bayonetta." The Hunter had no pretense for politeness at the moment, "So do me a favor and leave me alone." The response he got for that was not at all what he expected. He had surmised that she would likely be somewhat offended, perhaps roll her eyes and dismiss him.

What happened was somewhat more dramatic than that. In the blink of an eye, Bayonetta had him pinned on the floor, one gun-heeled foot on his chest. She looked down at him, her dark eyes glittering, "Naughty boy, you should be more respectful." The heel ground into his sternum, making the bones creak, on the very verge of snapping, "You get one more try before I really get upset, I hope you can be sufficiently contrite." She stuck the lollipop back in her mouth and continued looking into his eyes.

The Hunter grasped at her ankle, forcing it up off his chest as best he could, but Bayonetta was far stronger than her slim form suggested, and he was only to alleviate some of the pressure. He glared up at the witch and growled out, "My issues are not your concern, now get off me." That didn't help his cause at all, because all Bayonetta did was drive more force into her leg, almost breaking his skin and definitely cracking several ribs this time.

"Wrong answer." The Umbra Witch then reached down and lifted him into the air, "If you'd like we can let our bodies do the talking." That smirk came back again, "Just you and me for as long as we want, Hunter." So saying she threw him onto a training platform that had been at least a hundred yards away. By the time he had regained his feet, the dark haired warrioress had already reached the mini arena and the stage was rising into the air. Slowly the Hunter stood, his broken bones and bruises already disappearing as the healing field swept over them both.

He locked eyes with the woman across the stage and she winked, sending a kiss through the air towards him. The irritation he had felt before turned into anger, smoldering at first, then gaining fuel and becoming more of an infernal rage. He ripped the Rakuyo and Evelyn from their places at his hips and glared at Bayonetta. She merely smirked and waved her gun at him, as if inviting him to attack her. A quicksilver bullet exploded from Evelyn and sailed straight for the Umbra Witch, who merely tossed her head and sidestepped it.

The Hunter ground his teeth and holstered Evelyn, taking the Rakuyo and dual wielding the two bladed halves. Gaze fixed upon Bayonetta, he quickened forward and slashed at her. The response from her was almost lazy as she leaned back, stood on her hands, then fired on him with the guns on her heels. Several rounds caught him in the chest, causing the Hunter to snarl in pain. Enraged, he assaulted the Umbra Witch with every strike at his disposal, moving with the dextrous speed necessary to wield the Rakuyo to its full potential.

But none of the strikes seemed to affect her at all, those that managed to land merely tore her clothes, but even those tears swiftly vanished. And all throughout his attack she seemed amused, taunting him and sometimes even posing in a fashion that seemed to leave her wide open. Over and over again she baited the Hunter into another raging assault, only to avoid his strikes with an insulting ease and more winking kisses through the air.

Finally the Hunter had enough, he dropped the Rakuyo and lunged at Bayonetta bare-handed, using the same strikes he would if he had been wielding the Beast Claws. He attacked like a beast would, fierce and unrelenting, with brutally tearing strikes. But even so he managed only to land a few blows by surprise before she adapted to him and started taunting him once again. Finally he managed to tackled her and pin her to the floor of the stage. Their eyes locked, his yellow with her dark grey.

Grey eyes. He had never really noticed that Bayonetta's eyes held that same color. Something about that disturbed and distracted him and he was caught by surprise when she placed her feet upon his chest and kicked him off, sending him tumbling to the edge of the training stage. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, no longer filled with that same rage fuelled energy. Bayonetta sauntered over to him and looked down, "You really shouldn't tease a girl like that, she might get ideas." Then she pushed him off the edge with one foot and he landed upon the recreation area floor.

The Rakuyo followed him down with a clatter and he looked at the sword. As he slowly stood, Maria's blade once again upon his hip, Bayonetta came to him and poked him upon his forehead, "You should really mind your manners, or next time I'll really punish you." She walked away, lazily spinning one pistol on a finger. The Hunter glanced around and saw that a few of the other combatants had been watching. Among them was Samus, who had a look in her eyes that said she knew exactly what was going on in his head.


	15. C14: Fighting Two Battles

C14: Fighting Two Battles

" _The first set ends soon, doesn't it? One week already. Maybe this year there won't be a catastrophe."_

" _ **Yes, Director, we can hope.**_ _"_

" _Your tone tells me that hope is blind. What have you got for me?"_

" _ **We finished examining the Hunter's blood sample.**_ _"_

" _I'm not going to like this, am I?"_

The Hunter looked at Samus as her armor dissipated, leaving her in the skin tight Zero-Suit. The two of them were sitting in the bounty hunter's ship, which she'd somehow managed to have transported to the Arena. It was obvious she lived here instead of any of the provided apartments, and her best-blooded guest was somewhat overwhelmed by the display of technological advancement before him. He felt jealous, somehow, and wished that Byrgenwerth had striven for this to further mankind, instead of the Old Blood.

She looked at him, ice blue eyes inscrutable as they watched each other. Samus pointed to a bench hanging from a wall and the Hunter sat, adjusting the Rakuyo so he didn't stab himself in the side. The blonde woman watched him for several moment before speaking, her husky voice curt and sharp, "What are you seeing?" The question was also an order, and he tensed slightly at it's intensity.

Blue eyes bored into his green, and the Hunter slowly answered, "I am seeing the Hunt. The things I fought and killed, the decisions I made." His knuckles whitened as he gripped at the edge of the bench, "The people I lost." She made no move to respond, and he grew irritated, "What do you want me to do? Describe it all? The whole Hunt?"

"You're the one who's holding back, not me." She sounded almost irritated with him.

He felt a chill go through him and his tongue froze in his mouth. Holding back? Yes, there was much to be hidden about the Hunt. From the blood, to the hunters themselves. But Samus was referring to the flashbacks, to the visions of the past. And she was right, he was keeping details about those to himself, a deep part of him terrified that they might cause another episode to occur. Suddenly anger at his own hesitation welled up inside. When had he ever backed down out of fear? Not even the dreadful visages of the Great Ones were enough to unsettle or dissuade him.

Samus watched the Hunter, silent and unmoving, but within she felt a small surge of satisfaction as the man's countenance changed. The set of his shoulders became more solid, and the air became alive with the feeling of conviction. She kept a smile hidden as he looked at her, his now emerald eyes burning with green fire. Keeping her voice level she said, "Ready to tell me everything this time?"

"Oh you bet I am." Something about the Hunter had changed, she saw, almost like she was seeing a person that had been shut away for a very long time. A person who was coming out to see the sun again.

The Hunter straightened and began to speak, "The first was after my fight with Olimar. Bayonetta came into the post match room and showed me the replay on a tablet. When I saw what the smash ball had done to me, I lost it, obviously." Samus remembered that fight, though she had not heard that anything significant had occurred afterward, the Director's penchant for secrets was annoying at times. Still, she felt as if something more was involved, and waited for him to elaborate.

The haunted man's eyes became clouded with melancholy, "I saw myself turn into Gehrman, a man I very much remember killing. And I lived that killing through again. Every last brutally painful minute of it." She watched his arms begin to shake as he gripped the bench even tighter, "Gehrman... He...We weren't friends, but I respected him. I suppose I even idolized him in some ways. The first hunter, still alive after so many hunts, teaching me, watching over me. To have him turn and try to kill me like that was...unpleasant." The Hunter's voice was forcibly level, holding back the absolutely massive cascade of emotion that went with the memories.

"You're supposed to let it out, not just tell me a story. Cry, Hunter." Samus' blunt statement struck him and he bowed his head, shaking even more, "I'll wait as long as I have to, Hunter. I respect you, hell you're as damn near a friend as I've got here already. So just let it out and cry." Watching the man before her slowly break down into sobs was more disconcerting than she'd thought it would be however, and she looked away. Nothing Samus had ever done gave her the talents or knowledge to assist him, nor the desire. Certainly what she'd said was true, but she was and always had been, a stranger to most human interaction.

Minutes passed and the Hunter choked back yet another sob, "Did...you want the rest?" He looked up at Samus for an answer, but she remained silent, her icy eyes glittering from the many lights around the ship. Looking down, taking another deep breath, the Hunter began telling her of each and every time he had been lost in the memories of the Hunt. Throughout it all she remained quiet, still, and immutable.

The Hunter broke down a few more times, once in anger as much as sorrow, before finishing his recounting. Samus could feel that he was done, and she simply reached out and tiled his head back so she could look in his eyes, "Good job. Come back if you need to do it again." With that, she released him and stepped back, "And Hunter, before you go, remember you're free to ask me whatever I ask you." Then she walked to her piloting seat and closed the shutter between cockpit and quarters.

-x-

It was almost three hours later that Link found the Hunter staring out into space from the Arena's outer walkways. The man of Cainhurst looked drawn and tired, but no longer like he was on the verge of tearing something, or someone, apart. Link walked too his friend and leaned on the rail beside him, "You look like you just hiked a mountain without stopping." The Hunter shook his head slightly and let out an amused sound.

"And you're still as much a nosy busybody as that fairy you keep going on about." Was the laconic reply. Link's retort was an exasperated sigh followed by a slight knock to the back of the Hunter's head, "Sorry, Link. You're not that bad." The Hunter looked up at the green-clad Hylian, "Almost, but not quite."

The Hero of Courage scowled and waved his arms dramatically, "I come all the way out here looking for you, and all I get for my efforts and friendship is ridicule and slander!" The Hylian hmphed and crossed his arms, "Suppose I just leave you to your brooding and let you whittle away the hours before your next match in sleepless reverie." The threat was in no way serious, they both knew that, but the Hunter still apologized.

"Sorry, Link. Just in a bit of an odd mood, that's all." The Hunter looked back out of the star filled void, "Every day I'm here more and more things seem to change, including me." He fell silent then, watching a particularly bright jewel of the sky flicker. How far were the stars, he wondered. It was several minutes before the Hunter looked at Link, who definitely looked bored, "Well?"

"Well what? You're the one telling the story here, not me. It's not MY fault you left it hanging so long."

The Hunter laughed and lightly shoved Link, "If you want storytime go ask a nursemaid. As for me? I'm just trying to figure out why I feel so much better after telling Samus about all the memories that have been plaguing me." He sighed, feeling his jubilation fade, "And worrying about which one's will come clawing out next."

Link hit him around the head, hard enough to sting, "If you mope around anymore I might catch it too, and I don't really want to sit around being moody and depressing for hours." He paused. "Or days. Or weeks. Or-"

"You made your point." The Hunter stood straight, "Link, what would you do if you were forced to be separated from Zelda? And you didn't know how long it would last?" The question had just popped into his head and he had let it fall out without even thinking. Inwardly cursing, the Hunter looked at Link.

Link, however, didn't seemed too bothered by the question, "Hmmmmm. I guess I'd look for her. I've done that before, several times if you count my past lives." The answer wasn't at all what the Hunter had hoped for, but it wasn't entirely unexpected. The Hylian wasn't done, however, "Buuuut, if I was stuck here and the only way to get back to Zelda was to beat every other challenger to a pulp, you better believe I wouldn't be staring at the stars."

"I'd be fighting."

"You would be fighting."

The two of them said it at the same time, and exchanged a look before the Hunter spoke, "I don't know what to do, really. The harder I fight, the more likely it will be that the beast will emerge. But if I don't fight enough...Arianna could be lost to me forever." In his mind's eye, he saw her grey eyes, and he remembered her voice, and her touch, and her scent. Link's answer was lost on the Hunter as another vision overcame him.

-x-

Oedon Chapel lay before him, dark and uninviting, the incense extinguished and the door open. Blood dried upon the floor as the Hunter walked inside, Ludwig's blade at the ready. No one was left within, no one save a single hunched figure upon the central dais of the vaulted building. Slowly the Hunter approached, crow feathers trailing on the ground and over the body of Adella. The figure remained still all the while as he approached.

The Hunter gently touched Arianna's corpse and looked about. How could he have let this happen? Who could have possibly done this? A strange sense that he'd done something like this before washed over him, but he ignored it. Walking out the doors of the chapel, the Hunter followed a trail of blood outside. He looked around, and his eyes fell upon the blindfolded beggar.

The air was silent save for a few distant howls. Then the Hunter slowly drew Ludwig's Holy Blade and his pistol. The beggar scoffed, "Have you got a screw loose? Or is it your... animal intuition? It doesn't even matter... You hunters have got more blood on your hands! Die! Die, die!" As the beggar spoke, he swelled and changed, shape-shifting into an abhorrent beast and lunging at the Hunter. Blade met claw and the resounding blast from the Hunter's pistol echoed off the surrounding walls as the two of them clashed, all the while the beggar ranted at him, screaming about the hunters and beasts.

Finally, after what felt like an age, the beggar beast fell, dead, upon the ground. Grimly the Hunter doused the corpse in alcohol, then set it ablaze. As the smell of burning hair and flesh rose into the air with the ash and smoke, he turned away from the chapel and walked to the lamp, regret and sorrow filling his heart. If only he could do it over again, he would never even talk to that blasted beggar man.

-x-

The Hunter awoke screaming. He howled in loss and agony as he thrashed and fought against the bindings upon his body. Suddenly he began coughing, and blood spattered his lips as it arose from his tormented throat. Arianna, dead, bloody and ravaged in her chair. That vision burned inside his mind and caused hot tears to flow down his face. How could it have happened? She wasn't even supposed to be there anymore! And the beggar, how had he gotten in? Questions, fear, and sorrow swirled around inside his mind like raging hornets.

A gentle hand touched the Hunter's forehead, and he felt soft warmth coming from the contact. Strange sensations filled his mind as the warmth spread, easing the panic and horror. After a long time he finally opened his eyes, struggling after having clenched them shut for so long, and saw Palutena standing over him. The green haired goddess looked down at him, sympathy in her eyes, and pulled her hand away from his brow, "Yet another vision, Hunter?" He nodded, unable to speak, "Keep faith, and stay strong. Remember the blessing I bestowed upon you, and hold to that." Her soft words allowed the Hunter to relax yet more and he nodded again in gratitude.

Palutena left soon afterward, leaving the Hunter to mull over what he'd seen. It was an impossibility, he knew that now that he was rational. Though he did not understand how, the time in his own world had yet to progress even a second past his departure. There was no way for Arianna to have gone back to Oedon Chapel, not with her weak legs. The thought that she could have returned to Yharnam before he'd come to Arena flashed through his mind, but he dismissed it on the grounds that the Director would have told him if she had died.

Would they have told him though? Doubt wormed its way into the Hunter's reverie, and sowed the swiftly growing seeds of fear. He had to know if Arianna was safe and alive and he had to know NOW. He struggled with the restraints, eventually managing to bend and snap the hollow aluminum bar to which the strap on his right arm was attached. Swiftly divesting himself of the other cuffs, the Hunter rose from the bed, sore and cramped muscles screaming for him to stop. He ignored his body's pleas for mercy and stretched to silence some of the louder complaints.

It appeared that they left him his clothes this time, he supposed he must have been thrashing too much for them to strip or sedate him without getting hurt. Grimacing at the thought, he strode from the room to be met with a veritable wall of a guard. Who, or whatever they were, they filled the doorway and then some. They also appeared to be covered in armor of some kind, dark purplish armor. The Hunter scowled and lightly pushed at their back.

The guard turned after the Hunter's probing touch, looking down at him with glowing eyes. He looked back and sighed. It was never easy. But he might as well try asking, "Please let me by." The guard didn't budge. The hard way it is, then. Swiftly the Hunter ripped a cover from the bed and tossed it into the guard's face. Predictably the guard reached up to pull the sheet off, but by then the Hunter had already quickened out of the room and was rushing down the hall.

Eventually he ended up at what the other fighters called the "Hub", the area where all portals to all worlds were opened. Through the Hub one could view or travel to their world at any given time, provided they had permission. Thanks to his deal with the Ambassador, however, the Hunter had Carte Blanche in the Hub when it came to his home world.

He quickly acquired a viewscreen and, using short and simple instructions, told one of the aides to look at Arianna in Cainhurst. The trembling aide, the Hunter had perhaps mixed a few too many threats into his request, swiftly pulled up the requested view and handed the screen back to the Hunter. There was Arianna, sitting upon the chair beside her bed, reading one of the many books Cainhurst had somehow sheltered for many years. The screen fizzled and the Hunter realized a tear had fallen from his cheek and onto the device.

Wordlessly he gave the screen back to the aide and walked from the Hub. Arianna was definitely alive, and certainly in Cainhurst. So what had he seen?


	16. C15: Brutal

C15:

Brutal

" _Is there any way for us to at least PREDICT these meltdowns?"_

" _ **Not without a detailed review of the Hunter's mind. I'll remind you now I didn't want him here in the first place.**_ _"_

" _I know that. Get me the Witch. She's been in his head and can tell us what she knows."_

" _ **She doesn't like you.**_ _"_

" _No one likes me. Now get me the Witch."_

The first round of fights was over now, the second tier of bouts was soon to be underway, and the Hunter was on his back watching the ceiling spin. He reflected on the punch he'd received, the force delivered had been quite impressive, but he wasn't out yet. ' _Which is exactly why you should MOVE NOW_ '. Rolling to one side just before a follow up strike impacted the place where his head had been, the Hunter regained his footing, still somewhat bemused and a little dizzy. Shaking his head to clear it he watched his opponent with as much focus as he could muster. The blow had almost certainly concussed him, and judging by how much light seemed to hurt his eyes, quite severely.

Gritting his teeth, the Hunter assumed the stance he didn't even have to think to use. Right now relying on muscle memory would prove far more effective. Sidestepping another punch the Hunter smoothly rotated the Rakuyo around and jabbed the short end into Mac's gut. The boxer doubled over, gasping and coughing, and the Hunter swayed unsteadily. He would have to win this fast, the splitting pain in his head was proving to be impossible to ignore. One step forward, then another, Rakuyo raising up to strike, then-!

He was hit from behind with the kind of force one would expect from a freight train or falling building, lightning arced through his body before he was sent careening off the side of the stage and into a wall. The Hunter fell to the floor, to disoriented to even stand, and looked up as four white garbed staff carried him off and through the door that led to the after match rooms. As they passed through the energy field the Hunter's head cleared and he sighed, the staff setting him on a bench before quietly departing.

The team match had gone poorly, the Hunter mused as he sat up, rubbing at the side of his head. Both sides had been nominally even, of course, and he had no doubt it was quite the spectacle for the crowd to watch. But the second that ape had cast Marth from the stage, things had started to go south. He himself had held his own against Samus while Shiek had practically torn Donkey Kong apart. Then Mac's punch had hit him in the back of the head and, well...

At that moment Ray walked in, looking to be his normal, exuberant self, "Wonderful performance Hunter! You should have heard how angry the crowd was after those two backstabs. Whoo, I'm telling you, Mac and Samus are not popular right now." The Hunter raised an eyebrow at his agent, who shrugged, "You're a crowd favorite, Hunter. The new guy, the lone wolf, the tortured soul, you've got so much hidden that it drives the people wild. Even after your interview, they still want more."

"The crowd should appreciate my reticence, Ray. It's sparing them nightmares, and possibly worse, further curiousity." The Hunter stood and rolled his shoulders, even though the field healed him completely, there was almost always a phantom ache from where he'd taken the worst hits. He and Ray walked out the door and through the tsunami of people who practically drowned the common area outside the arena. Voices screamed for his attention, others cat-called him for losing, and yet others bombarded him with incessant questions.

A flash of ill intent was all the warning the Hunter got before he whirled around and caught the dart that had been heading straight for his neck. The crowd around him went silent as he scanned the surroundings, careful to avoid touching the point of the projectile. Security staff, garbed in blue and white uniforms with black body armor, pushed the crowd away from him and began questioning possible witnesses. The Hunter looked at Ray, who was pale as a sheet, "Maybe we should get you some armor too, my friend. One bad shot and it won't be me who needs the healing fields."

Ray swallowed hard and nodded, apparently unable to speak. The both of them were escorted by security out of the common area and into the grand hall where only champions and their guests were allowed. The Hunter handed the dart to one of the guards before looking back out the doors. He knew that he wasn't universally popular, and it was entirely likely that someone out there bore him a grudge. But to take it this far? The effort and planning it would take just to get the weapon within the arena grounds was, in all probability, extreme. No mere audience member would be able to achieve that, not without help.

He remained there, considering, eyes focused upon the distance as he mused upon the implications. Such it was that Marth was able to approach without him noticing until the prince was but feet away. The Hunter turned to look at the other man who said, "I witnessed the blow. It was unavoidable, even had you been aware of it."

"That's not exactly what has me concerned, Marth." The Hunter had little use for titles or forms of address beyond his own queen, and no one else seemed to care apart from those others from Marth's world. He looked at the door again, "Someone just tried to shoot me out there. I'm wondering about that."

The blue-haired swordsman's face grew hard, "Assassins." He spat the word out with such venom that the Hunter was surprised, "Such low creatures are found even here, then." The Hunter regarded Marth, he'd never heard this kind of hate from the typically soft spoken young man. The prince caught the Hunter's look, but did not deign to explain or excuse his words. Instead he asked, "Were they able to apprehend the...assailant?"

The Hunter shrugged, "The guards were working on that when I left the commons. I doubt they'll find anyone, however. It's far too crowded a place for any one person to be found so easily." The two of them looked to the door again, then at one another, "I'm guessing this is the first time you've heard of any sort of attack like this, then."

Marth nodded, expression once again reserved, but the Hunter could see the steel in his eyes. "But I am not senior among the warriors here, Hunter. There are a fair number who precede me here by several years. Even so, to attack one of us in such a manner... This is likely a statement as well as a threat. There is more here than simple malice."

The two of them went quiet, and remained that way until Samus walked through the door, helmet under one arm. The three nodded to one another, but the bounty hunter's gaze lingered on the Cainhurst Kin, "I missed Sheik." She said simply. The Hunter shrugged in response and she nodded, walking on into the grand hall. Marth turned and left as well, leaving the Hunter alone once more.

Time passed and the Hunter heard nothing more about the attempt upon his person. The silence was grating and he yearned to strike out on his own, to track them down, to _hunt_. It surprised even him how much he seemed to miss stalking beasts and cutting them down. The thrills and terrors of Yharnam seemed to call to him somehow, a yearning to once again enter the night and cover himself in violence. He paced about his rooms, looking down at the floor.

A large part of him craved that experience, that excitement, the emotions and actions that could only come from a night of the Hunt. The Hunter was loathe to admit it, but he enjoyed battling against beasts. The Arena...well it was certainly good for fighting, but none of his opponents had the same crazed animalistic brutality that the beasts fought with. There was no desperation, no fear or anger or killing intent. Challenging, yes. But threatening?

His eyes fell upon the statuette of Arianna and he sighed. Those urges were exactly what he was here to rid himself of. Yet they remained, stronger than ever, more insistent and powerful. Somehow being so far from the Hunt for so long was making him crave it more than ever before. The Hunter felt so impotent and powerless right then, unable to do anything to suppress or even control the desire for violence like unto the streets of Yharnam.

With a frustrated growl he left his rooms to go back to the training platforms. It was not a perfect solution, and like as not it encouraged his bloodlust, but he needed to fight something and he needed to do it in the way he would fight a beast. His eyes flashed yellow as he made his way there, ignoring those he passed. But he was not ignored in return. The Hunter could feel the eyes of several of the other combatants upon him as he impatiently started up the training.

He discarded the Rakuyo and Evelyn, leaving only his fists, and leapt at the first conjured fighter, tearing into it with all the pent up ferocity he was unable to use in the Arena. The Hunter ignored time's passage, paid no heed to the fact that those few who knew him here were watching with concern, everything was blocked out except his need to hunt. Over and over he brutally assaulted each and every one of the faux fighters, flailing at them until his finger bled and his throat was raw.

Eventually the training ended, the platform returned to it's place in the floor, and he lay still, breathing slowly and looking at the ceiling. His fingers hurt, but he didn't mind. The pain helped him anchor himself. When injury was whisked away like magic, you lost the view of self preservation, of basic instinct. Certainly he had drive to win, reason to fight, motivation to continue. But fighting for one's life... nothing could replace that desperation, that will. So he lay there, letting the pain of his bruised and bloodied hands remind him of his mortality.

It's strange. To go from fighting for your life every day, then to have that constant threat just be...gone. Would it always be like this? A secret hunger for further violence? Or would that fade when the beast was purged from him? He blinked and frowned, for some reason he couldn't quite fathom, something felt off. The moon was high, as it should be. And the Dream was silent, as it always was. So what could be amiss?

He stood and looked around, and saw the twisted body of the Moon Presence, lying dead, on the other side of the flower strewn field. The Hunter grimaced and turned away. Of course, that would explain the strange feeling. That... well, calling that a fight would be to civilized. But fight it was, brutal and long and bloody. He didn't feel all that sore, which surprised him. In fact, he felt better than he'd ever felt in his life! The Hunter looked at his hands. They were bloody. Why was that?

Link smacked the Hunter upside the head, causing the man to jump and whirl around, eyes darting for a sign of threat. The green-clad Hylian gripped the Hunter's shoulders and shook him, blue eyes boring into green, "Back with us, Hunter?"

The Hunter swept his gaze about himself. He wasn't in the Dream. Of course he wasn't. That had been yet another...vision. It unnerved him how easily his own mind was convinced of such things. Slowly he nodded in response to Link's query and the swordsman released him, "I...apologize. It's difficult to escape the visions when they are so...all encompassing. Thank you for pulling me back."

"You're welcome. You don't look as pale as last time this happened actually."

"It wasn't all that bad, admittedly. I woke up in the Dream. And the only unsettling thing was perhaps the corpse of the Moon Presence."

Link rolled his eyes, "Yes. The only thing that bothered you was the body of a dead god. I'm surprised." He slapped the Hunter on the back, "How you maintain your sanity is a wonder to us all you dolt."

The Hunter smiled slightly, "If I am sane what does that say about your mental stability, my friend? Perhaps you are in far greater peril than you realize." He looked down at his hands, the field had indeed repaired the damage done. Somehow, he missed his scars. All the old aches and pains reminded him that he was, truly, alive. "Link... do you ever miss it? All the struggling to stay alive? The constant fighting..."

His Hylian friend remained silent for a while, then pulled the Hunter over to a table and sat across from him, "Is that why you were fighting like that? Tearing into those wireframes?" The Hunter nodded, expression clouded. "Look, Hunter, I don't pretend to know what you went through back in your country. But I wouldn't have expected you to miss it all that much."

"That's just it, neither did I." He sighed and shook his head, "But, much of me yearns for that constant conflict. The...thrill of battle with actual stakes, risking it all every hour just to live a bit longer. I... do not understand it all that well, but perhaps I simply... fought for too long. Perhaps I have become addicted to the very violence I was attempting to stop." Link said nothing, so he continued, "Perhaps I already was the beast I feared before I came here."

The green swordsman looked at him solemnly, then reached out and knuckled the Hunter's head. The Hunter jerked back, glaring at the now grinning Hylian who said, "If you think you're a beast, I'd hate to see you with fur. You mope around too much, my friend. You need to adapt to your new environment. Learn to have fun. Otherwise you'll hate every second here." Link leaned back, "Besides, I think your Arianna would've known if you were a beast or not, eh?"

The Hunter thought that over. It was reasonable, of course. And why shouldn't he at least attempt to enjoy his time here? Maybe Link was right, but something still nagged at him. In the end he smiled slightly and nodded, "I will think on what you said, thank you my friend." He waited for Link to leave, but was surprised when the swordsman didn't move.

"That's it? Wow Hunter you've got a long way to go when it comes to the art of conversation. Like we've both said now, we're friends. Friends usually talk for more than a couple minutes at a time." The Hunter blinked, nonplussed, and Link shook his head in exasperation, "Being your friend means I actually somewhat ENJOY your company, dolt. Honestly if you're this inept at even talking how did you ever get a woman to fall in love with you?"

"You'll have to ask her yourself." The Hunter thought back on his time with Arianna. They never had spoken much, really. There never seemed to be much time for words. They'd been able to speak without them, in a way. He remembered the way she would smooth her dress when she was embarrassed, that shy look she'd give him from between her long lashes, the sound of her gentle breathing while she slept...

He snapped back to reality as Link waved a hand in front of his eyes, "Hyrule to Hunter, ya in there?" The Hunter blinked and smiled sheepishly. The Hero shook his head, "Man when you fell for her you fell _hard_. Honestly Hunter, how do you have a functioning brain left after all the absolute madness you've been through AND falling in love?"

The Hunter smiled, then chuckled, then started to laugh. It was indeed good to have a friend, especially one as astute as Link.


	17. C16: The Line Blurs

C16

The Line Blurs

 _ **"The scans are back."**_

 _"And?"_

 ** _"You'll just have to see them."_**

 _"...What am I looking at?"_

 ** _"That's the problem, we don't know."_**

It was getting worse, the Hunter leaned against the wall, gasping heavily as he tried to regain some measure of control over his quaking limbs. It wasn't so much what the visions showed him, he had long since come to terms with the horrific nature of the beasts he'd killed. It was more that it felt like he was being jerked through time and space to Yharnam, Bergenwerth, even the Chalice Dungeons. When the visions came… it was if he was an entirely different version of himself.

There was no doubt in his mind that what he saw had happened, somehow and somewhere, but that was the problem. Much of what he saw should be impossible, people that showed up dead in his visions were still very much alive, and the other way round held true as well. It was getting more difficult for him to discern which memories were of this reality, and which were not.

Only one thing was common between each episode, it was always his own eyes that looked upon every instant. He knew, somehow, that it was his hands that cut down the humans and beasts in each and every nerve racking spell. But none of them matched up to what he had thought to be the actual events of his past.

His own grinding teeth jerked him out of his reverie and the Hunter sighed, lowering his head and sinking to the hard floor. This was the third time he'd seen Gehrman die in a different manner than he originally remembered. And this time the Moon Presence had recoiled from him. That much tied to what he had perceived as the true past.

But he remembered nothing after that, the vision had simply ended, abruptly and without warning. The rest had always faded away, like water draining from within a glass. Why was this any different? Obviously he had gone back to the Oeden chapel in the past he recalled, so perhaps that was where it was supposed to end?

There were too many questions racing through his mind, and nowhere near enough information to answer even one of them. Slowly he stood up, his blood burning and eyes aching, feeling anger and calm all at once, like two swirling pools refused to mix within him. Oil and water, churning and roiling around and around, surging and receding in concert.

He thought back to the knowledge of Bergenwerth, the revelations there of Insight and the Old Blood. His mind traversed over hall and hill to Yahar'gul and the Hall of Mensis. The formless child and wraithlike Nightmare that was Mergo's wet nurse. Formless… wraithlike... somehow everything seemed to trace back to that peculiarity. Even the Amygdalans were invisible to him before the death of Rom. And there was a name that sprung to mind for such things; Formless, like Oeden. The Chapel, Mergo, the Hunt and the Pale Blood. Everything seemed to be in some way touched by the Great One who ascended above all others.

Even the Pthumerians, in their rotted tombs, were linked to that shapeless presence. The Hunter's eyes narrowed, knowledge and ideas drifting together in his mind. He felt as though he was on the cusp of some… revelation, some grand solution to everything that plagued him. The visions, the hunt, Oeden, all of it was somehow intertwined and woven together. But...he just couldn't see why, the eyes within him could not pierce that strange veil.

What was it about Oeden that was so important? Why did the Hunt occur? Nightmares, dreams, and reality; Yharnam, Cainhurst, and Mensis; Men, Beasts, and Great Ones. Something was tying it all together in a convoluted knot that he could only catch the fraying edges of. Somewhere there was a thread that would pull this mess apart, but he just couldn't see it.

All that alerted him to the newcomer was a soft shuffling sound some way down the hall. It was only there for a moment, but for him such a signal was as good as a war horn or an alarm. Instead of looking for the source immediately, the Hunter remained still, breathing calmly and keeping his heart beat low. The rush of blood in his ears from an elevated heart rate would drown out faint sounds that would tell him if the other was drawing closer, or simply watching.

There, another light shuffle, the watcher was light on their feet, that was for certain. The calm air, lightly cycling through the hall due to the various machines, remained undisturbed. So they were not large enough to cause the gentle breeze to shift. Slowly he drew in a breath through his nose, no familiar or unusual scent registered on that front. No sound of breathing, no feeling of shifting air, and no scent. The Hunter closed his eyes and opened his Insight to the world around.

Stark reality surrounded him, etching the hallway in so much detail it was almost harsh. His inward turned eyes searched around, seeking signs of the one who drew nearer. Nothing physical was present, yet there was certainly something there. Gazing at him from shapeless form, with no visible perception to be had, a consciousness studied the Hunter. It knew he saw it, but that was apparently unimportant.

The Hunter felt his physical form trembling, hot blood oozing from one nostril and his ears began to ring. The weight of that presence grew greater and greater around him, his mortal mind hanging on by mere threads of scarce sanity. Then, with a soundless roar that shook their surroundings, something erupted from within the Hunter, superseding his unfit awareness and standing like a solid wall against that mighty will that oppressed him.

Hours could have passed, or seconds, time had no hold upon either awareness that silently contested in that dim hall. The Hunter's body choked and gasped, the air too thick to breathe and lungs to constricted to draw in even a single breath. Tremors racked his entire form, unrelentingly shaking him over and over. Then it stopped, and he lay, staring blankly, at the wall.

-x-

The entire Arena felt it, some obscure sense of weight bearing down on them all, with no visible source. Everyone from the audience to the warriors on the stage stopped as their chests slowly constricted. Then it was gone, as suddenly as it had arrived the oppressive force had simply vanished. The Arena updates didn't even mention it, pretended it had never happened at all, and the majority decided to go along with that and move along with their lives. After all, it was easier to ignore it than to acknowledge that kind of power.

Those who refused to accept the silence and lack of explanation were convinced otherwise. Many of the detractors went away with substantial sums for their silence, and some had no memory of the event at all after a short interview. The fighters, of course, were not subjected to this screening. Many of them knew something had gone wrong, and had raised their guard accordingly, but that was enough.

A small group was aware of more than that, but their greater awareness did little to allay any concerns. Instead it gave rise to a slew of new questions and concerning possibilities. As it was, one of them sought the source of that pressure, and found the Hunter, alone and unconscious.

So it was that he awoke to see the thoroughly unamused face of Bayonetta, who was almost glaring at him. "Oh I do so look forward to hearing your explanation for this latest event." Her tone was almost scathing, but still she extended a hand to help him up. He took the offer and slowly rose with her assistance, stumbling slightly, but his balance returned almost immediately.

"If I could explain it, I would." He rubbed at the back of his neck, so much of his body was sore and tense that it hurt to move. The Hunter caught Cereza's expression and sighed, "An invisible presence found me here and tried to...do something to me. I don't know what it was, or where it came from. It was shapeless, and all I could discern was the sense of watching and the sheer weight of its existence. Nothing I've fought came close to exerting that kind of force by simply existing." The Umbra Witch had crossed her arms and was looking at him with skepticism.

The sound of shifting chainmail caused the Hunter to turn, and he saw Link was there, as well as Samus. Both of them were regarding him silently, and the feeling of being examined was not at all pleasant. Scowling he looked away from them and Bayonetta, it was to be expected after all, he was the source of the disturbance and his explanations barely sufficed as hints, let alone answered any of their questions.

As his frustration mounted, the Hunter once again felt the pressure within his head mounting. The feeling had become quite familiar and was his only warning that another vision was oncoming. He braced himself against the wall and shut his eyes tightly, waiting for the wrenching sensation that would trigger the episode. The sensation came alright, but it was so much stronger than any before that he was forced to his knees by the wave of nausea it induced. He gasped and wretched for several agonizing minutes before looking up.

His three comrades still stood before him, looking concerned, then their expressions shifted to shock as they looked around. Link's sword came free of the sheathe on his back while the two women readied their firearms. The Hunter was confused, then he looked down the hallway.

Lurching toward them, covered in blood soaked fur and opening its mouth to shriek its hate and lust for flesh, was a Cleric Beast. Without a second to consider the meaning of the beast's appearance in this place, the Hunter immediately leapt up, weapon leaping into his hand. As Ludwig's blade came free of it's sheathe, he grasped the old hunter's bone in his left hand and strode forward.

He was vaguely aware of the others behind him, and he held out a hand to signal them not to approach. If too many fought with him they risked frenzying the beast and making it unpredictable. As it was, the Hunter knew exactly how to destroy a Cleric Beast. The opening lunge it made was predictable, and he easily evaded it, blade biting into the monster's weak hind leg and causing it to howl in agony.

The deadly dance felt so familiar that the Hunter barely had to think in order to react to each strike the beast made. Every attack his foe made was turned against it, each opening exploited without mercy or hesitation. But a new development quickly reared it's ugly head as the Hunter realized that the beast refused to stop. He knew that his strikes were hitting vital organs, the bouts of blood and rents he had made in its flesh were all too blatant to mean anything else. Yet it would not die.

As the struggle dragged on, the soreness of his muscles began to catch up with him, and the Hunter began to make mistakes. It wouldn't be long before the beast was able to catch him and bring him low. He felt that instant arrive as he stumbled, one leg giving way beneath him from sheer exhaustion. But the beast was unable to strike him, as Link's shield came up in defense of the Hunter and warded off the oncoming blow.

The Hylian, though braced for such an attack, fell backwards from the sheer force of that single blow. Yet again the Cleric Beast was unable to take advantage of the opening as a hail of bullets and energy blasts began to tear into it, throwing the monstrous attacker off balance and pushing it back. Blood pouring from its many wounds, smoke trailing from charred flesh and burning fur, the beast howled its pain and frustration.

Then Link was up again, gleaming sword in hand as he ran forward, energy trailing from the tip of the sacred blade. The instant the barrage of gunfire stopped the hero of hyrule leapt into the air and buried the sword into the Cleric Beast's skull all the way to the hilt. The monster stumbled, flailing weakly, then fell back and slowly turned to ash.

-x-

Arturo pushed aside the cobwebs that covered the road to Yahar'Gul, the cloth covering his mouth keeping the disease ridden dust from entering his mouth and nose. The area before him was so choked with age that it would have taken a storm to clear it of all that clung to the crumbling stones. Yet, even with all that filled the air and despite the cloth covering his face, he could smell something that was certainly not human.

The otherworldly reek made him want to wretch and he gritted his teeth. The Hunter of Cainhurst's trail was so scattered that following it in any one way was nigh impossible. But he had been here, that much was certain, and the more clues Arturo found, the closer he came to finding his quarry.

With wary eyes the raven cloaked man searched his surroundings, nothing made itself immediately apparent. Then he glanced upward and saw something that made him pause. There was a section of air that seemed to be completely empty of all dust, as if something there was preventing it's drifting into that patch. The longer Arturo looked, however, the more he realized that dust was clinging to the edges of that massive shape.

He stepped backward, the thing was immense, and grotesquely shaped. The outline was moving, gently shaking loose piles of dust, giving that invisible being a sense of amorphousness that made it all the more unnerving. Slowly he crept around the outer edge of the room, watching the slowly shifting dust for any reaction to his presence.

The thing made no sudden motions, gave no indication it even knew he was there, but something told him that it was watching his every move. Step by step, Arturo drew closer, then eventually passed underneath the invisible monstrosity. The second he was able, the hunter of hunters darted through the opening beneath the thing and turned, weapons in hand. Nothing stirred, not a mote of dust shifted.

Gradually he backed away. This had something to do with the Cainhurst Hunter, he knew it did. Yharnam was only the beginning of this debacle, and there were things beyond his understanding involved in this. He felt like his mind was slowly being unraveled by each new revelation, every discovery making the world around less certain. But his task did not change, he had his own hunt to finish, and nothing would get in his way.


	18. C17: Ebb and Flow

C17:

Ebb and Flow

 _A man's Grand Hunt for pale blood_

 _Forgotten, fear the old blood_

 _Scholars and monsters both_

 _Trapt within, all fear the old blood_

 _Nightmares and Dreams all alike_

 _Captured and lost, fear the old blood_

She could no longer walk, and it was growing ever more clear that her arms would soon follow. Arianna felt trapped in her own body, helpless, and more alone than ever. Though the notion was foolish, even ridiculous, a part of her wanted to believe that if her Hunter returned, all would be well again. He had overcome so much already, that an ailment like this would likely seem small to him, easily overcome with some forgotten remedy from the places he had traversed.

A knock came at her door, and she looked towards it, away from the window through which she sought to see the Hunter's return. The dark stained portal open softly, and the Doll entered. Arianna felt a flash of fear at her approach, ever since that nightmare she had grown more and more afraid of the Hunter's patient assistant.

"Her Majesty wishes to speak with you." The Doll curtseyed to Arianna, "She requested that I bring you to her. Will you come?" The blond woman nodded slowly, unsure of what Annalise would say to her. The queen of Cainhurst had spoken to her rarely since their arrival at this castle, and most of those interviews had been cut short, as if the lone royal was somehow pained by her presence.

Still, it was likely preferable to the stark silence that filled most of Arianna's days. Gascoigne's daughters, while pure and uplifting, spent most of their time exploring the parts of Cainhurst that were open to them. Much of the ancient structure was forbidden and sealed off, openable only by the Hunter or Annalise.

When the Doll wheeled Arianna into the throne room, she was surprised to see about half a dozen men and women, clad in working clothes. Annalise beckoned to Arianna and the Doll. When they drew closer the queen spoke, "These newcomers claim to have been summoned by the one who shares our blood. They come from a far off place and state that they are tasked with restoring those parts of Cainhurst that are damaged." Her expression was unreadable, "I detect no deceit in their hearts, but I summoned ye to speak with them, if perhaps you have other questions?"

Arianna's eyes widened as she looked at the strangers, one of whom stepped forward and cleared his throat, "As her majesty said, we were summoned here by invitation." He held out a folded sheet of paper, the wax seal of Cainhurst plain upon the exterior. Arianna took the letter, hands trembling, and opened it. She had never seen the Hunter's handwriting before, but his cadence of speech was present in each line, so blatant that she almost felt that he was speaking the words beside her.

Tears filled her eyes, this much was proof that he was alive, and still human. Even his memories were intact. Was it possible that he was winning the battle against the beast plague that he had so feared? A renewed spark of hope was ignited within Arianna's heart, and she felt almost as if warmth spread throughout her from that spark. The aches and pains and worries of weeks melted away from her and she smiled, tears sparkling on her fair cheeks.

The man cleared his throat, looking a trifle embarrassed, "We were also instructed to bring this." He held out a small packet, which Arianna took, confused. She opened it and looked inside. The packet was filled with a dark brown powder, along with a small paper with a series of pictures that detailed mixing the powder into boiling water. She smiled softly, of all the things he could have sent, the Hunter had sent her tea.

-x-

The Hunter in question had mad arrangements for the workers and medicine mere days prior in Arianna's time, but for him almost a month had passed since then. The fluctuations of time between each world were carefully managed within the Arena so as not to cause and disturbances in the various worlds. Due to some strange properties of the Hunter's world, however, they could do very little to adjust the relative passage of time.

It gave him more time than he would have had otherwise, but it was still irksome to think that Arianna would have to pass through so much without him. For once, however, Arianna was not at the forefront of his thoughts. At that particular moment all that he could focus on was the black stain on the tiled floor before him. All that was left of the Cleric Beast that had somehow appeared and attacked the Hunter and his comrades.

Had he been alone, it was very likely the beast would have killed him eventually. His memories of the fight against that monster on the bridge to Cathedral Ward were clear on the fact that the wounds he'd inflicted should have been enough to bring it low. But every wound inflicted had only served to give this new iteration more fury and strength. The splashes of red on the floor and walls, slowly pooling together, were a mute testament to how much damage had been inflicted before the monstrosity finally died.

Acrid smoke filled the air, stinging his lungs and making him cough heavily. HIs entire body shook with weariness and his muscles felt like stones. Every part of him was so tensed up it was painful, and it was all he could do to remain upright, let alone move. Without speaking, Link came to the Hunter's side, pulling the Yharnamite's arm across his shoulders to help him walk. The Hunter murmured his gratitude to the Hylian and, with Bayonetta and Samus following behind, they made their way to Dr. Amherst's medical research station.

Link hoisted the Hunter onto the sterile bed before stepping back. The Hunter sagged, the tension gone from his muscles, but no more able to move than he had been moments ago. Silence prevailed until Samus spoke, "Can we expect more of them?"

With a weary shake of his head the Hunter replied, "I thought that I had killed that beast long ago. But this… was not the same as that which I remember hunting." He straightened as best he could, "It is called a Cleric Beast, and long ago hunter had transformed to become it." A humorless smile crossed his face, "The hunters of the healing church, most of us clerics. And ' _As it was, clerics turned into the most hideous beasts.'_ " He quoted the old saying, not really remembering where he'd picked it up in the first place.

"Amelia, Gascoigne, and many others whose names I didn't know, transformed beyond recognition. Some of them barely held to their sanity, others completely gave in to the beasthood and bloodthirst." The Hunter shrugged, "It happens to all of us. We either die, or become another monster to hunt."

"Why do they have names?" The Hunter looked at Link as he spoke, his own expression puzzled. "Didn't you tell me that hunters gave up their names?" The Hylian's question caught him off guard.

Bayonetta let out a low laugh, "Is that how you explained it, Hunter?" She smiled at him, her eyes glittering, "You sacrificed your own name for the Hunt? Foolishness."

Link looked at the Umbra witch, raising one eyebrow, "So do you know his name then?" Her knowing smirk was all the answer the hero of time needed, "So why didn't you tell me your name in the first place, Hunter?"

"Because he doesn't know it. He forgot his name a long time ago, didn't you?" Bayonetta placed a lollipop in her mouth, still smirking. The Hunter stared at the witch incredulously and her expression became smug, "I found quite a bit in that fractured memory of yours, Hunter."

-x-

She was wroth, the void that encased Her vastness undulating through creation causing Her brother to stir and tear the fabric of His Dreams. She Who Was and Is cared not for such things, the Nightmares that her progeny wove for all mortality were far more important than His fanciful wonderings. The Hunter who had escaped was growing beyond her reach, his eyes were opening and it was intolerable.

With a shriek that sent ripples through the surrounding nebulae, She reached with incomprehensible tendrils towards the awareness of Oeden. The Formless One would be the key, and She would use the so called "Great One" how She saw fit. Her reach was stymied by one thing however, an unknown awareness was flitting about that tiny world. Pathetic and unwitting in its defiance, but nonetheless a barrier to Her designs. The swirling of blood, its echoes resonant and prolific, provided hindrance.

The waters of Yharnam began to churn as the rage of She began to boil through, roiling at the waking world, bubbles of maddening whispers bursting upon the surface of every river and pond. Every pop filled the air with ice, the wood and stone and iron of the city all slowly becoming covered with creepers of frozen malevolence.

Slowly, like a patient plague, She seeped into the minds of every last person and beast in Yharnam, dragging them all into her Nightmare. They would awake to a seemingly perfect reflection of what was, but never again would their eyes be closed. There would be no rest, no peace, and no ignorance. All eyes would open to all things, and if madness came, so much the better.


	19. C18: Quarterfinals

C18:

Quarterfinals

" _So, thus far three different… beasts have appeared in the extremities of the facility. All of which have been summarily dealt with. The last, however, appeared to be some sort of agglomeration of corpses."_

" _ **And has the Hunter been present at each appearance?"**_

" _As a matter of fact, no. But he has been experiencing exceptionally painful migraines that coincide with them."_

" _ **So, is he summoning them, or something else sending them here to kill him?"**_

" _Your guess is as good as mine. But if another beast, or even a second hunter appears here, that may be disastrous."_

-x-

He had taken to wearing a blindfold again, a thin piece of cloth that helped dim the lights around him. The Hunter winced as the high pitched whine of machinery in the walls reached his ears. Ever since the Cleric Beast attack he had been subject to increasingly over sensitive inputs from many of his senses. It was definitely going to be an issue during his tournament fight.

That very bout would take place fairly soon, less than half an hour now, and he wasn't sure if another crippling headache would hit him in the middle of everything or if another waking dream would overwhelm his senses. It could be entirely possible that he would see the other combatant as a beast or some horror from the Chalice Dungeons.

A light over the door blinked on, signalling the five minute mark prior to beginning of his next contest of arms. Grimacing in resignation, the Hunter stood and stretched, checking the covering across his eyes to make sure it was secure. The light switched to the one minute warning and he took a deep breath, standing before the immutable steel door that would slide open to reveal the stage.

With a hiss, the door retracted back into the wall, and allowed the Hunter passage onto the extended walkway. Step by step the two fighters came out onto the grassy platform, and the Hunter's green eyes met the violet irises of Wolf. The paths slid back away from the stage, and the announcers blared their commentary to the yammering crowds. The noise made the Hunter grit his teeth, but it wasn't unbearable.

Both fighters remained still, each taking the measure of the other. They'd had plenty of time to do their research on their opponent's strengths and weaknesses, now it came time to use that knowledge to beat each other until one of them fell into the waiting abyss below. The siren that signaled the fight's start blared and the crowd's roaring became even louder, but neither the Hunter or Wolf moved.

The crowd grew quiet, the tension between the two becoming almost palpable even to the onlookers. Soon it was if the entire arena was holding its breath, waiting for one of them to make the first move. That move was Wolf's, the mercenary's impatient nature finally pushing him to reach for the blaster at his hip. As soon as the pilot moved, however, the Hunter also took action, dashing forward and catching the edge of a floating platform some seven feet in the air above.

Wolf made leather and fired a bolt of energy at the Hunter as he clambered up onto the hovering terrain. The blast caught him in the leg and he swore as the pain lanced through him. But now he had the cover of the three gravity defying pieces of land to keep Wolf from utilizing the superior range of the blaster. If the Hunter wanted to stand a chance he needed to make this a close range fight, as his opponent had far more options to harass him at a distance.

The Hunter heard the attack before he saw it, and rolled out of the way just in time to avoid Wolf bursting upward in a surge of energy. Using his already existing momentum, the Hunter swung one leg around in a wide arc to strike the back of Wolf's head with a solid thud. Instead of losing balance, however, Wolf adjusted for the Hunter's blow, then reached around and grabbed him by the ankle, twisting hard.

To avoid having the bones in his leg broken, the Hunter moved with Wolf's motion, pointed Evelyn down at his opponent, and fired. The quicksilver bullet hit the mercenary in the ear, resulting in an animalistic howl of pain. With practiced speed, the Hunter regained his feet and spun to face Wolf, Rakuyo held low and Evelyn at the ready in his left hand.

Blood trickled down the side of the star pilot's face, matting his thick fur and dripping down to stain his uniform. The two of them watched each other like hawks for several moments, then lunged forward to clash again and again. Weapons were scattered about the arena, unneeded as the two of them grappled. Punched, kicks, bites, cuts, every blow was savage and relentless.

Sparks began to emanate from the two combatants, multicolored specks of light drifting up from them in a haze of energy. With each blow the two of them gave off more and more light, until both were glowing with multicolored fire. The Hunter got his feet under Wolf's chest and kicked him off, sending the bloodied mercenary flying across the stage.

The two of them staggered upright, bloodied, bruised, and panting; the nimbus of energy coming from each of them like the flames of Hell. As one they began to draw the light within themselves, their eyes glowing and veins burning. The Blood Moon rose behind the Hunter as Wolf lunged forward, the targeting systems of StarWolf's ships locking on. The stage exploded.

Fire and debris scattered like dust in a howling wind, chunks of rock striking the barrier between the stage and the audience. Despite the forcefield, many of the onlookers screamed and ducked behind the seats in front of them. Smoke filled the Arena, slowly clearing as automatic ventilation was activated. The viewers all waited with baited breath as the stage became visible once again. A single blurry figure stood at the center of the blasted landscape, staggering and panting.

The crowd saw the grey fur, the bloodied muzzle, and gasped in response. Wolf tilted his head back and howled. Then he stumbled and fell, bleeding from a gigantic gash that opened him up from shoulder to hip. Murmuring filled the stands as the audience searched for the Hunter, then one young woman cried out, pointing to the ledge facing her. A slow roar filled the stands as the Hunter clawed his way up onto the stage, covered in soot and dirt, the Yharnamite raised one hand as the announcers proclaimed his victory.

And then the Hunter fell on his face, darkness enveloping him as he lost consciousness. But he did not sleep, or rest, indeed his mind felt awake as ever in the endless void that encased him. His eyes turned inward, the Hunter looked about himself, perceiving an immutable and silent barrier was before him.

His mind drifted forward, closer to the dark wall. An image shimmered up the surface of that plane, warped and strange. Beyond human eyes, it's shape was only barely discernible by the Hunter's Insight, and the reason for the various appendages escaped his mortal understanding. But deep within his limited mind, something did understand, it was amused by the apparition and shunted the Hunter aside.

Himself yet not, the apparition and the deep understanding shared thought with motion, sound, and other senses that men cannot begin to grasp the meaning of or use for. The Hunter consciously understood little of the exchange, for indeed it seemed to be a trade or deal, rather than what we could define as a conversation. At the end of it, the shapeless image vanished, and the Hunter was left with a scant feeling of purpose and smug satisfaction.

-x-

Bayonetta was annoyed, it wasn't all that unusual for her, but typically her irritation was with relatively minor things. Over assertive angels, exacerbating demons, but things like that were easy enough to deal with, and as with most things, handled with utmost confidence and self assurance. This was proving to be far more aggravating, not the least because there was no clear path for her to follow.

Every time she felt that she had the measure of this situation, something new cropped up to cause even more problems, and these were problems her guns couldn't fix. It was becoming absolutely intolerable, and the more her thoughts dwelt on the issue, the more it gnawed away at her patience. The Umbra Witch who had defeated Jubileus, thrashed damn near all of Hell, and had trounced dozens of foes in this very arena, was feeling helpless.

She detested this feeling, its very existence felt offensive to her. Not even in the presence of gods had Cereza felt anything but sure of her course, and now there were rapids that were proving unnavigable. Her hair began to shift in response to her annoyance, shifting and weaving itself about her.

This whole situation that surrounded that damn Hunter was proving to be one of, if not the most, difficult things she had ever beheld. Nothing was simple with that damned man, and trying to determine what he would bring next was next to impossible. Bayonetta herself had defied fate many times, but fate still existed for her.

Yet things like destiny, fate, foreordination - none of that seemed to even touch the Hunter. Even in the memories she had dredged from the deepest wells of his mind, there was no clear cut end. There was no simple resolution to his struggles, and no one in his world was guaranteed anything. That uncertainty seemed to have followed him like a curse here to the Arena.

That same shadow that had haunted her for weeks now was whispering at her ear again, the pestersome thing was absolutely maddening. But, that was its purpose, madness and distress, this emissary of whatever it was had broached her consciousness during those mental sojourns with the Hunter's awareness. Some being beyond any simple god or demon was pushing at her, trying to drive thought and feeling toward an inescapable chasm.

A frown passed across the face of the Umbra Witch and once again she dismissed the shade, ignoring it like she would an insect. Giving its insidious whispers the creedence it begged for was out of the question. In a flash of understanding Bayonetta had come to realize that the thing could only have power over her mind if she listened to it. The words still wriggled and teased at her subconscious, but only with conscious acceptance could the madness be allowed in.

Then it fled, once again departing from the presence of the Hunter, who it seemed to fear. The man in question was lying unconscious in the rooms behind the Arena, his wounds healed and his clothing repaired. After seeing the fight with Wolf, Cereza had been pushed by curiosity, and mischievous intent, to visit him again. So she had made her meandering way to the room wherein he slumbered.

She watched him, thinking, perhaps it was time for her to reveal what she had found in those locked away memories of his. Important knowledge had come from those dark and bloodied remembrances, and the Hunter would need all of it soon. But still, something inside her preached caution and patience, a deep intuition telling her that he was not yet ready.

So it was that she did not share the things she had found in the Hunter's locked away past. Instead she gave him that same cryptic, all knowing attitude that she had maintained for so long. Bayonetta knew she would have to tell him about everything eventually, from his name to the fact that, in one maddened life, the Hunter had killed everyone he now held so dear.


	20. C19: Breaking Point

C19:

Breaking Point

 _And when they dug, those of Yharnam blood_

 _Tombs they found, stained with wisest sin_

 _Endless knowledge, rot'n buried insight_

 _What could have driven such men to look_

 _Deeper within that vile scabrous pit_

 _A steep price paying, for false god's sight_

Arturo spat his bitter blood to one side and wiped his lips with one tattered sleeve of his black feathered garb. The chilling air around him stank of corpses unable to rot from the frost that imprisoned them. All of Yharnam seemed to be in the choking grasp of an unnatural ice, the crystalline water almost seeming to claw for living flesh. There was no one else to defend the people there against the shambling, half dead masses that now roamed the streets.

The hunt before had been one of fire, blood, and frenzied rage. Now the world seemed locked in a cold, fearful madness. Visions of shadows flickered in the all too clear ice, and the air itself seemed to be stained with anxious worry. And that which staggered in the alleys and thoroughfares seemed but a shell for whatever insane will had galvanized them back to motion.

The hunter of hunters took a moment's rest against one wall of a charred brick home, breathing unsteadily as he recovered from destroying the carrion that now lay before him. Only an old battered weapon from the church had saved him from being consumed by the frozen curse that stole life and will from all it clutched. The flamesprayer had been discarded in a ruined part of the Healing Church, and had proved to be the most effective weapon with which to fight off the cursed ones.

Still, it didn't stop them from throwing themselves at him in endless waves of blank and mindless hunger. His eyes fluttered with exhaustion as the cold seemed to drag him farther down, the warmth seeping out of his body. Darkness seemed to creep up around him, almost comforting in its cold and empty expanse.

Then it was warm, and the feather cloaked hunter stood with a start, looking around wildly. This was certainly not Yharnam, indeed no place matched the location wherein Arturo had found himself. Low grasses bent softly to a barely perceptible wind, and headstones surrounded him, worn and weathered with time. A burned out husk of a building lay before him, the only sign of any possible inhabitants.

Above him, a bright white ring of light illuminated all that was about, darker than day but brighter than night. To Arturo's shock he discovered that his wounds had all disappeared, even his raiment appeared to be repaired. Then his eyes fell on the monstrous, twisted corpse beneath a large tree. The blackened form seemed eerily still, almost as if it were a statue carved from hate filled stone by a madman.

Then the wind began to howl, and Arturo saw the corpse begin to fall into ashes, leaving only a writhing slug behind. With disgusted fascination he found that his eyes would not leave the small monstrosity. And, as he watched in revulsion, it was slowly raised into the air and obliterated. The hunter of hunters then felt something about him, formless, yet all too real. He heard an echo within him, deep and without mortal meaning, yet that soundless voice burned something inside his very brain.

Arturo's eyes went blank and he fell, limp, to the stone pathway.

-x-

The strain was becoming unbearable, and the aggravation of his mortal senses was bearing down on the Hunter like so many tonnes of raw granite. Even though he had completely obscured both his eyes and his ears, he could still pick out both small details and hear tiny noises with an inexplicable clarity. Strange and alien thoughts clouded his conscious thoughts as the silent barrier in the back of his mind wore away.

Speaking with the others in the arena had become strangely mixed up and incomprehensible. The words they spoke were exceptionally easy to understand, yet the emotions and intent felt so unimportant that it was difficult to muster any sort of connection to what was said.

So separated, the Hunter was regularly found "staring" into the void of space, no longer noticing anything other than urgent interruptions of his strange contemplations. His final battle was drawing nigh, though he thought of such things as menial and tedious now. Far greater issues and thoughts, deeds and motions, all dwelt beyond in the endless starry expanse that so enthralled him.

He felt the essence of those who busied themselves with things that he couldn't muster the motivation to care about. Knowing, even as he ignored them, that something dreadful was happening inside him. Dreadful yes… yet enthralling, captivating, so thrilling and all encompassing that there was only a faint hint of a desire to draw away from the deep knowledge that swirled before him, even as he stood in the mental shallows of infinity.

An urge, no, a need to drown his mortal self in that bottomless sea rose like clutching fingers to grasp at his mind. Part of him still struggled to maintain some of what made him human, but it was growing weaker. Every new urgent temptation of knowledge and existence beyond his own made the internal battle all the more difficult. A vision of haunting grey eyes was rapidly becoming the only lifeline to which that mortal self could cling, a reminder of why he was there, and what failing in his self appointed task would mean.

It felt odd that he should still care, but something caught his attention then, drawing it away from the precipice he considered with such abstracted calm. Something was shifting in the void that he watched, warping the light of stars ever so slightly and dimming their light. Only one patch of the infinite bore that strange inconsistency and the strange knowledge from beyond the fathoms in his mind bubbled up with barely comprehensible understanding.

Another migraine racked his brain and the Hunter's grip on the railing grew so tight that the square edges threatened to split open the skin of his palms. He felt as if the entire world was shaking, his legs trembled as the muscles in his body suddenly lost all strength, causing the pained man to fall to his knees, gasping.

Only the gradual tempering of his body through the fire and pain of the hunt, as well as regular doses of the insidious Old Blood, kept his physical form strong enough to withstand what was happening to him. But the mutagens, Insight, and raw knowledge gnawed and writhed at his body and mind. He couldn't take it much longer, something had to be done or else his very existence would come to an end.

There was but one escape open to him. His inward eyes opened and he looked out across the black lake within his mind. The waters were rippling from some unseen disturbance far beneath, and he knew that if he did not escape soon, the hidden monstrosity would devour him whole. Precious little time remained to act, so act he did. With a certainty born of experience, and a determination already rubbed raw and aching, the Hunter carved three runes upon the disturbed surface of his mind.

 _A Clear Deep Sea_ so that the _Eye_ may see, and then there would be a _Communion_. Each rune caused yet greater rage from within the waters, but this did not forestall him. Standing erect the Hunter raised his right arm high over his head, at the same time extending his left arm straight out from his side. Patiently he waited, then slowly transitioned the stance to swap the positions of his arms.

The lake exploded, a grotesque mass of fur and protruding limbs came roaring up from the depths. Long claws extended from what could only be described as mutated hands, ripping and tearing at the lake's surface as the thing scrambled for purchase to climb free of its prison. Above the beast and Hunter rose a silver moon, its reflection red as blood in the water's surface.

A bestial body with an elongated neck covered in a patchwork of fur and reptilian scales followed the writhing forelimbs of the monstrosity. Pale tendrils the color of rotted milk flailed without any apparent will directing them as a rancid ichor spread from them and coated the broken surface of the lake. Eight limbs in total spread from the haphazard and crooked torso, with three segmented tails dragging along behind like dead weight, the entirety of the lupine head covered in malformed and misshapen eyes.

A bubble of knowledge burst beside him and the name of his prey came floating before his eyes. His own Eldritch Truth, a Great One born of blood and insight, a Nightmare. Without really thinking about what it meant, the Hunter felt the familiar weight of his beloved Rakuyo in one hand, and the equally comforting feel of Evelyn in the other. It was strange, now that there was a monster in front of him, he felt calmer than he had in months. A faint smile even appeared on his face, it was almost like coming home.

With a roar that tore apart the very atmosphere with crimson streamers of spittle and blackened blood, the VileBlood Hunter's Nightmare came tearing at him at a disjointed and uneven gallop, gouts of water spraying from where the vicious claws rent the obsidian dark surface. Its prey remained still and calm, that placidity only serving to drive it into an even greater frenzy. Slavering for the Hunter it leapt forward, limbs and claws reaching for him almost desperately.

The Hunter was there one moment, almost completely engulfed by the colossal body that sought to crush him, then he was gone, quickening away to one side in order to locate an opening he was sure he would find. But this creature was from him, born of his own deep potential, and it was ready. A previously limp tail came crashing down between the Hunter and the Nightmare's unprotected side, the carapace-like armor more than a match for anything other than the heaviest of the Hunter's weapons.

Their opening moves left them at a draw, perfectly matched for one another, in a battle to which no result would be predicted. Grotesque mutant eyes met the steady gaze of the Hunter with maddened hatred and bloodlust. Yet neither of them moved for several moments, then the Nightmare attacked again, unable to stand patience or waiting of any kind it howled and rolled on one side, seeking to cover the object of its hatred in the putrid slime that seeped from the disgusting tendrils on its back.

In midair, still falling, the beast caught a molotov to the back of the head, blinding three of its crazed eyes with the searing combination of alcohol, shattered glass, and unforgiving fire. The shriek it let loose was beyond mortal sound, and reached out to spread the frenzy of Nightmare to the Hunter himself, who felt that maddened wailing deep inside him as he avoided the rain of sewage like liquid and the crashing body.

The beast burned, the Hunter felt himself slipping, a desperate desire for blood rising up in him. They had both received their first wounds, but only further testing would determine which would sink into the depths, broken and defeated. So the Hunter took the offensive, rashly and counter-intuitively striking for another of the staring eyes. As the Rakuyo tore open the raw flesh, a reflexively raised claw scored the assailing Yharnamite along his chest, opening a shallow, yet long, wound which immediately began to seep blood.

Wildly and without concern for his own skin, the Hunter grabbed at a tuft of matted fur and swung himself upon the neck of the Nightmare. His prey writhed and twisted underneath him as he grimly pulled out a vial from his coat and poured its contents over the Rakuyo's shining blade. Then with a desperate thrust he drove the dextrous blade deep into the pulsating flesh beneath him.

It was as if the madness of his Nightmare thus far had been a mere rehearsal for the absolute insanity of the flailing that came as consequence of the reckless strike. The Hunter was thrown clear, Rakuyo stuck fast in the filthy flesh of his adversary. Many yards away he came down upon the onyx lake as if it were made of stone, a sudden gasp escaping his throat as the air was forced from his straining lungs.

But his time to recover was not long, for the mutation of Eldritch Truth came sprinting for him, somewhere in the mass of eyes foam came spraying forth from what had to be a mouth, though no creature had ever possessed such jaws. The Hunter was forced to fall back on instinct alone to defend himself, and that caused his left arm to rise and fire Evelyn straight into that gaping mass of teeth and drool.

The quicksilver bullet sank deep into the soft flesh of the prey's throat and it shivered, falling back slightly, stunned by the sudden pain. With a strength born of desperation, the Hunter came to his feet and shoved one hand deep into the staring orbs, pushing his arm in almost to the shoulder. Driving deep through a large eye socket he grasped a portion of the Nightmare's brain matter and, with a sudden violent wrench, tore it free from the malformed skull.

Such a shriek came loose from the Nightmare's throat that the Hunter was sent reeling, clutching at his head as the monstrous frenzy built up higher within him. Even as he struggled to resist, the Great One thrashed on the ground, half its limbs gone limp and the rest twitching and flailing spasmodically as ichorous blood seeped from the hole the Hunter had so viciously bored through its bulbous head. Both Hunter and nightmare were unable to attack, barely able to move now, each close to cold death.

Slowly, the Nightmare began to turn to ash, the twisted form drifting away even as the Hunter staggered to his feet. All that was left was a small, writhing, worm like thing that squealed pathetically as it tried to move its limbless form back to the hole in the lake. The Hunter stumbled forward, feeling as though his mind would turn to ash soon as well, pain throbbing behind his eyes.

He bent to grasp the now freed Rakuyo from the water's surface and the worm squealed in what could only be terror. Grimly, the Hunter strode forward to stand over the infant Great One that had apparently been formed within the depths of his very soul. This… thing, had been made from him, born of his actions and the power he had attained. It disgusted him to think that he could have become such a being. Without any further hesitation, he drove the Rakuyo through the worm and killed it, slaying one more Nightmare as he had time and time again.


End file.
